Amber Star
by Shell-K
Summary: "Arslan waited until the sound of her steps vanished in the night. He went down the stairs and headed towards the royal apartments absorbed in his thoughts. One week. He couldn't afford to waste not even a minute". [ArslanxÉtoile] BE AWARE OF SPOILERS. Rating might change later in the story.
1. Pampered boy

**A/N:** I translated this from my original work (written in Italian), so be aware of possible grammar mistakes. Suggestions and advices are welcomed!

 **BE AWARE OF SPOILERS!**

Hi everyone!

Allow me to say just a few words.

I'm in love with Arslan Senki and if you follow me on tumblr ( cool-kiara-love) you probably know that my absolute favorite characters are Arslan and Étoile (or Estelle, if you want to go by her real name), both as single characters and as a couple.

Not being able to resist, I wandered through the 'arslan senki spoilers' tag and I found out about Étoile's destiny in the original novel. At first I was highly disappointed and that's why I wrote fanfictions such as "Life" and "The King is back".

As time passed, however, I started accepting the original version. Anyway, there's still one thing that keeps bothering me: I hoped Arslan and Étoile had the chance to develop what had started to bloom before _that_ happened.

So here I am, writing a fanfiction to give an alternate development to their story, describing how things could have gone if they had the chance to spend more time together.

Of course this is just my personal point of view, my humble version of the events.

(since I can't read the original novel because of language issues, probably there will be some discrepancies. I'll try to make it as "realistic" as possible!)

 **Pars Era**

 **325**

 **Royal Capital of Ecbatana**

The sun almost touched the horizon, similar to an immense amber pearl balanced on the outer earth's limit. The warm light of the summer sunset lighted up the top of the towers and the highest buildings of the city. Men and women moved quickly in the twist of paved streets, with that energy that awakens when one's aware that another working day has finished and foresees much deserved rest. Children paved their way into the labyrinth of streets sneaking among men and animals, disappearing beyond the doors at their mothers' call, who were about to serve dinner. Voices, music, yells mixed with the light breeze that wedged in the ways, carrying the perfume of dry grass from the countryside. Everywhere were workshops, stands, tents, travelling artists, wagons. This was Ecbatana, the city of many colors, of many perfumes, the stronghold protected by the high crenellated walls on which long, white and red flags flapped. The gem that once fell into the dust, scratched and stepped on by barbaric envy, now was shining again, polished by its citizens' hands. The victorious city, the city of freedom, the crucial knot of the Continental Highway, a rocky, golden casket that already filled myth with the prodigious stories people told happened within its walls. Ecbatana appeared like this, embraced by the last light of the day, risen haughty and isolated on the vast level ground at the mountains' feet, chosen among the others to be the Royal Capital of the thriving Kingdom of Pars.

The gates would be closed in a few minutes and the numbness of the evening, then the cooling breeze of the night, would fall upon the city. The small group of knights rushed at full gallop towards the western gate rising a dusty cloud. The guard standing at the entrance stopped them with a significant gesture of his hand. The five strangers stopped and one of them got off his horse and went closer to the parsian soldier. He showed him a piece of paper and the soldier turned it around many times before grumbling something and letting the new arrived proceed. The knight straddled the horse again and entered the city followed by the other four men.

The nobleman made a wide bow. He fixed the green headgear on his bald head with care, then turned around and disappeared beyond the door followed by his two attendants, noticeably satisfied. Elam followed him with his eyes shaking his head with a certain disappointment.

«This was the last delegation. The meetings are over for today», he said to the king sitting at the bottom of the room. Arslan breathed out in relief and let himself collapse against the throne's back. He reclined his head backwards and some strands of his silver hair slid on his face. Daryun, wrapped in his pitch-black cape, looked at him apprehensively while the king fixed the scarlet coat fringed with golden strands on his knees, sighing for the umpteenth time. The orange light of the sunset flooded into the room from the huge windows that opened on the left wall. Anyway, the feared Marzban believed he saw a certain paleness on the sovereign's face, a candor that matched the white pants and tunic he was wearing.

«Your Majesty, you seem really tired…», Daryun said getting closer to the throne. Arslan smiled.

«Just a bit, don't worry. It's been a long day», the young king answered. Elam nodded and approached the ebony table laying against the right wall of the room to reorganize the papers that had been signed during the previous hours.

Suddenly a herald all dressed in white burst into the room. He stopped a few steps from Elam, bending on his knees to catch his breath. When he stood up again he realized everyone's eyes were focusing on him, so he rearranged his white headgear with long brims that framed his face, he cleared his voice and started speaking:

«Majesty», he began. «An embassy composed of five knights has just arrived and asks to be received». Elam twisted his mouth annoyed.

«The hearings are over for today», the young counselor exclaimed.

«That's what I told them, but they insisted!», the herald said lifting his arms in the air.

«Where is this embassy from?», Arslan then asked. The herald dropped his arms at his sides and for an instant he seemed to hesitate.

«From Lusitania, Sir». Elam and Daryun looked at each other surprised and Arslan stiffened. The Great War had been over for a few years, but hearing that name still made him jerk and a soft shiver ran down his spine.

«Let them in!», he ordered sitting better on the throne, while Daryun and Elam stared at him speechlessly.

«They arrived here without even considering sending a message of presentation», Daryun said. «What could they possibly want?»

«That's what I want to find out», the king answered following with his eyes the herald who, after having bowed, rushed outside the door to refer the order.

Less than a minute later the coordinated steps of the ambassadors echoed in the corridor, accompanied by the cracking of the swords hanging from their hips. The small group entered the meeting room. It was composed of five people, all knights, and they were wearing the typical blue tunic with the two-limbed white cross on their back and the iron helmet on their heads. They seemed rather young, except for one who advanced behind their supposed commander, a middle-height boy who kept his eyes low. They stopped a few meters from the throne and they bowed slightly. Arslan looked at them.

«Welcome», he started a little unsure. «Who are you? What do you want?», he asked, regretting immediately having used such hostile words.

The boy who served as commander of the Lusitanian group smirked ambiguously. Daryun stared at them suspiciously and Elam glanced at the dagger he had put on the ebony table. Arslan, on the other hand, was enraptured by that strange smile, sure he had already seen it on somebody's face. The young commander lifted up his face and made the helmet slide backwards. Two amber eyes crowned by long black eyelashes shone in the half-light of the sunset. Arslan jerked. First he stared at those eyes shocked, then his lips curled into a smile and his face lighted up.

«Étoile!», the sovereign exclaimed enthusiastically.

Daryun and Elam looked at the knight and they had to admit it really was the lusitanian girl. Étoile laughed at the king's reaction, she took the helmet off and her long blonde hair fell on her back.

«It took you long enough to realize it was me, pampered boy!», she commented sarcastically, but she didn't manage to utter the last word since Arslan had already rushed down the steps that elevated the throne and had drew her into a warm hug. In the rush Étoile's helmet fell on the ground rolling under the eyes of the other lusitanians, who were looking at each other failing to understand the sovereign's reaction. Daryun and Elam smiled at the incorrigible affability of their king. Étoile, recovering from the surprise, blushed visibly and didn't dare hug him back, so she just patted his back affectionately.

«I wasn't expecting such welcome», she admitted when Arslan resolved to let her go.

«Forgive me!», Arslan laughed fixing his red coat. «The fact is that I would have never imagined you'd come here! It's been four years since the last time I saw you…», the king said looking at her. She was taller, without doubt, and her features had sharpened.

«Right…», Étoile agreed looking at him too. Arslan had grown up, he was even taller than her of about three inches, and his face wasn't that of a boy anymore, but of a young man. They never realized how much they stood there motionless looking at each other. Someone coughing behind Étoile drew them back to reality.

«Anyway, these are my men», the girl said stepping aside and pointing at them with her hand.

«Kostàs». A boy of about twenty years, thin and with black eyes and hair, moved a step forward.

«Yanis». A robust knight responded, blonde and green-eyed, who seemed to be gifted with great physical strength.

«Thibaut». It was the turn of a young, tall and thin man, whose hair was red like the freckles covering his nose and cheeks that intensified his light blue eyes.

«And Malakai», Étoile concluded. The last called one stepped forward. He was the oldest one, a middle-aged man, with brown hair and beard. He bowed slightly and greeted the king.

«It's an honor to meet you, king Arslan». His voice was warm and deep.

«The honor is mine», the sovereign answered politely. «These are two of my generals, as well as counselors and dearest friends: Daryun and Elam». The two moved onwards and smiled benevolently. Arslan's whole attention turned to Étoile once again.

«I'm sure you have a lot of things to tell me, that's why tonight all of you will be my guests for dinner». Étoile thanked him and Yanis seemed to reinvigorate at the mere mention of food. Arslan called an attendant.

«Accompany our guests to their apartments and let them know when dinner will be served», he ordered smiling.

«I shall do it straight away, Majesty». Arslan made sure his order was done in the best way possible, then he retired in his rooms to get ready for dinner.

Arslan instructed the servants to prepare the huge rectangular room on the first floor of the palace. On the long wall on the right of the entrance were positioned big lanterns at equal distance, on the opposite wall, on which opened enormous arches that overlooked the city, the women had put big vases with colorful flowers. The low central table was set with embossed goblets and large fruit baskets. Also, in order to mark the seats, perfectly polished and shining cutleries were positioned on the tablecloth of soft fabric with azure and blue embroideries. All around the table were large cushions on which later the dining companions would seat to have dinner according to the parsian tradition.

Darkness fell upon Ecbatana, but thanks to the big lanterns hanging from the wall the room was floodlit. Arslan appeared at the entrance receiving the servants' greetings. The king was accompanied by Elam, Daryun and Farangis, who had reached the palace from the near Temple of Mithra. For the event the young sovereign had chosen to wear a long-sleeved, dark red, short tunic, fringed with golden strands and tied by a leather belt, matched with white pants. His gold and lapis lazuli earrings made his already shining face glow even more. He had a word with his companions, then the doors opened again and the guests made their entrance announced by a herald. Arslan welcomed them smiling widely.

Étoile entered the room followed by her men, all in civilian clothes. The young woman was wearing a light, cobalt blue, long-sleeved tunic kept tied by a large leather belt that marked her waist and hips, fair pants and knee-high boots. Her long, blonde hair was braided and fell elegantly on her right shoulder. On her neck she wore the wooden cross of the Faith of Yaldabaoth from which she never got separated. The other knights were wearing a long-sleeved, white shirt, a sleeve-less blue robe that covered up to mid-thigh, a leather belt and fair pants.

Étoile approached the sovereign and smiled slightly.

«I hope your accommodation satisfy you», the king started looking at the small group of lusitanians. Yanis smiled eloquently and Kostàs nodded firmly.

«Everything's perfect. Thank you», Étoile answered speaking for everyone.

«Very good», Arslan commented. A servant of the kitchen peeked out from behind the door and gave a nod to the king, who nodded back to let him know he had understood.

«Let's not wait any longer», the sovereign resumed opening his arms. «The cooks are ready to-»

An agitated sequence of steps, curses and rather worrying thuds echoed in the corridor. Daryun glanced instinctively at the sword leaning against the wall, the others, instead, turned towards the entrance more curious then worried. After the umpteenth thud a young woman whose hair and eyes were red as flames burst into the room, covered in sweat and mud, with her sword swaying violently at her side and her face marked by tiredness.

«Alfreed!», Arslan exclaimed shocked. «I hadn't expected to see you so soon. Have you and your team, already completed the inspection? Did something happen?», he asked her worried by the girl's conditions. Alfreed caught her breath.

«Yes… Yes, everything's alright!», she answered gaining a sigh of relief by everyone. «But…»

«But?», Daryun urged.

«As soon as I found out I ran as fast as I could! But apparently he was wrong…», she said disconsolate.

«Who was wrong? What are you talking about?», the Knight in Black asked again starting to lose his patience. Alfreed stretched out her back and grumbled something.

«A herald…», she started explaining. «I heard him ordering to set up the apartments for some lusitanian knights, among which was Étoile, but clearly she's not here…», she concluded pointing at the group standing in front of her. The lusitanians looked at her perplex, then turned to their commander who peeked out from behind Yanis' large body, making herself visible. Alfreed opened her eyes and mouth wide and Étoile laughed at the funny face resulted.

«He wasn't wrong! He wasn't wrong!», the young parsian woman shouted rushing towards her. She didn't hug her to prevent covering her in mud from head to toe, but she squeezed her hands tightly, happy to see her friend safe and sound. Arslan suggested to wait for Alfreed to freshen up and then have dinner all together. No one objected, but Yanis betrayed a certain bother that didn't go unnoticed to Thibaut, who jabbed his elbow into his stomach.

It didn't take long for Alfreed and in a blink of an eye she reached the dining companions. Arslan took a seat in the middle of one of the long sides of the table and wanted Étoile next to him, on his left. Daryun sat on the king's right, next to Farangis. Alfreed took a seat next to her lusitanian friend, while Elam and Étoile's men sat down on the other side of the table. Arslan waved his hand and the servants started coming out the kitchen with laden, steaming trays.

Courses of roast meat, vegetables cooked by embers' heat, bread and spiced flat breads were served accompanied by a wonderful wine coming from the southern area of the kingdom. The abundant dishes were a delight not only for the palate, but also for the eyes, such colorful were the compositions.

The guests really enjoyed the parsian cooking. At every mouthful an amazed expression painted on their faces and Arslan was really happy about that. From time to time he turned to look at Étoile, who accepted politely everything she was offered. For a moment the king believed to see her again in the dim light of the cell in the underground of the Keep of Saint Emmanuel, grabbing the bowl of stew out of his hands and popping it like the roughest of the soldiers. The two images seemed so distant now that he couldn't help laughing.

Étoile stared perplex at him rising an eyebrow.

«What's wrong with you?», she asked. Arslan shook his head.

«Nothing… Nothing…», he answered waving his hand in mid-air. «Rather, tell me… How was your journey back home? And what happened later?»

Étoile sighed and for a few seconds she stared quietly the cup of wine a woman had just poured her. Arslan feared he had asked her the wrong question. The girl, instead, lifted her eyes on his face and answered.

«The journey went well, but what we found once we arrived… well…»

In the room only the clinking of the dishes that the servants were piling to clear the table was resounding. Everyone was waiting for Étoile to find the right words to continue.

«The ones who had stayed had taken advantage of the situation to gain money and power against the population. Once the war was over, the army came back disordered and in disarray and that made the situation worse. We tried to gather enough men to bring order at least to the main centers. I served mostly in my native city. It took us two years, but we managed to bring back peace and calm. It was then that I was appointed as Knight». Étoile let herself get carried away by her memories and smiled.

«What a wonderful news», Arslan commented sincerely.

«Since that moment I started receiving tasks of greater responsibility. Six months ago I was order to go to Misr on a diplomatic mission. It was in that occasion that I met them», Étoile explained turning her gaze to her men. «And it's from Misr that we are coming, sadly without having reached the hoped success. While we were coming back I thought about making a deviation through Pars. I admit I was curious to see how you were managing…», she added bringing the wine cup to her lips. Arslan chuckled. «And I have to say you seem more capable than I had expected!», the young woman concluded. Daryun didn't hide an annoyed grimace due to the lusitanian's insinuations.

«I do my best!», Arslan said humbly. «Of course the help of my friends is fundamental», he added in a more serious tone. Elam, Farangis and Daryun smiled.

«Speaking of which…», Étoile resumed. «Someone's missing, if I'm not mistaken». Alfreed let out a mournful cry and grabbed her arm. The young lusitanian managed to place the cup on the table just in time to avoid spilling the wine on the precious cushions.

«My beloved Narsus had to leave and now he's at Peshawar to resolve some important businesses», she started saying desperate. «And I'm here alone…», she sobbed. Elam stared at her annoyed shaking his head.

«Jaswant asked to pass some time in his homeland to take part in some traditional celebrations and he'll be away for a few weeks. Gieve is constantly travelling and probably he managed to sneak into some luxurious palace… or he's outside in the cold air under the stars!», Elam said smiling.

Dinner went on and the dining companions tasted typical parsian sweets that were really appreciated, especially by Yanis. Once the courses were over, Arslan let some flute and lute players enter to accompany with a delicate melody the conversation that followed.

After just over an hour the guests asked for permission to reach their accommodations and rest. The king had nothing against it and after a final toast everyone was dismissed for the night.

Étoile reached the guests' apartments with her men, but the girl realized she had forgotten the book she used for her evening prayers in the bag she had left in the stable with her horse.

She greeted her soldiers and went down the stairs again. She took the corridor on the left and crossed the inner square up to the barns and stables. She took from the bag what she was looking for and went back. While she was climbing the stairs she saw a dark figure holding a lantern in its hand coming towards her. She stopped, suspicious, and when she remembered she hadn't her sword with her a shiver ran down her spine. Tension, however, melted when in the dim light two big blue eyes shone and the girl realized it was Arslan. The king stopped a couple of steps from her and smiled.

«Sorry! I didn't want to scare you», he explained noticing her expression. «Why are you still here?». Étoile breathed in to answer him.

«I went to take this», she said showing him the book. «And you?»

«I went to the roof to greet Azrael», the king answered plainly.

«Azrael? That's the grey hawk that's always stuck to you, right?», the young woman commented mimicking the bird's wings with her arms.

«Exactly!», Arslan chuckled, thinking that was the weirdest as much as most realistic description of Azrael he had ever heard.

They stood there, motionless, looking at each other in the dim light and Arslan thought Étoile's amber eyes, illuminated by the lantern's flame, were more shining than ever. Then suddenly the sovereign broke the silence.

«I meant what I said earlier. I'm happy that you came here. You can't even imagine how glad I am to see you safe and sound…», he admitted looking straight into her eyes. His gaze was intense and penetrating. Étoile failed to stare back at him and lowered her eyes blushing.

«How long are you planning to stay?», the king asked her.

«My men need to rest. If it's no trouble, I think a week will be enough», the young woman answered getting a grip of herself.

«Only one week?», Arslan blurted. Étoile sensed a certain disappointment in his voice. «Anyway», the sovereign resumed, «you can stay for as long as you want», he told her smiling. Étoile smiled back.

«You haven't changed… Thank you». She climbed a few steps and went past him. «Now if you don't mind, I'd like to rest a bit. It's been a terribly long day», she told him.

«Of course. Goodnight», he said.

«Goodnight», she answered. Then she climbed the stairs and disappeared in the darkness of the corridor. Arslan waited until the sound of her steps vanished in the night. He went down the stairs and headed towards the royal apartments absorbed in his thoughts.

One week. He could not afford to waste not even a minute.


	2. Ecbatana

**A/N: Just a few words to thank everyone who read/reviewed/followed/favorited this story so far. In one of the reviews someone asked me whether the spoilers I mentioned in the introduction to Chapter One are from book 13 or 15. Since the review was posted by a "guest" I couldn't reply directly, so I'll answer here: the spoilers are from book 13 and regard Arslan and Étoile.**

 **Thank you again! I hope you'll enjoy Chapter Two: Ecbatana**

* * *

Daryun adjusted the belt to which his sword was attached. He rubbed a hand over his face to wipe out the last traces of tiredness and advanced with decisive steps along the corridor. The faint morning sunlight wrapped up the palace bringing a feeling of peace and calmness. He reached the loggia that opened on the inner little square and looked out expecting to see the king training his swordsmanship on his own as usual. But the square was empty. Daryun looked around surprised and a wind blast rippled the water gathered in the central fountain.

He turned back and came across Elam who was advancing hasty with his arms loaded with scrolls. From the time Narsus left, the young man had to take care himself of all the correspondence and bureaucracy of the palace and probably he had been working since before the sun rose. He was in such a hurry that he didn't even see Daryun and he passed in front of him without deeming him worthy of even a glance. The Marzban had to yell his name more than once to draw his attention.

«Good morning Lord Daryun», Elam greeted him turning around and dropping a couple of scrolls on the ground.

«Good morning to you, Elam!», the man greeted him back. «Do you know where His Majesty is? This morning I haven't seen him yet and he's not training as he usually does», he explained.

«Yes, he's left», Elam answered bending over to pick up the two scrolls.

«He's left?», Daryun repeated shocked.

«Yes, with Étoile», the boy added, snorting when two other scrolls fell on the pavement.

«To go where?», the man urged.

«To the city. He wants to show her the progresses it made since the end of the war.»

«And you let him go alone?», the Marzban exclaimed opening his eyes wide. Elam struggled to hold back a laugh. The king was almost twenty years old. He was strong and he could defend himself more than easily, and yet, no matter how hard he tried, Daryun couldn't help worrying constantly about him.

«Farangis, five men of the royal guard and the knights in Étoile's service accompanied them», the young man reassured him.

The Knight in Black seemed to calm down. He greeted Elam and started walking again along the corridor. The boy looked at him for a few moments. He surely wouldn't be surprised if shortly thereafter he saw him leaving at full gallop towards the city. He smiled shaking his head, then he rearranged the scrolls in his arms and reached his office.

The shrill yells of the merchants who tried to attract customers to their colorful stands resounded everywhere. Men, women and children, young and old, moved in the city's streets filling the air with voices and squalls. From the crossing of two roads came a cheerful and rhythmic melody and among the crowd four dancers could be seen moving, letting themselves get carried away by the song's notes. A light and nice breeze blew through the buildings making the long, colorful flags hung from the top of the highest towers flutter. From some houses came an intense perfume of bread and flat breads, typical herbs and spices that mixed creating an inebriating fragrance.

The open-air market was a most important event in Ecbatana. It took place on the first day of every week and not only the inhabitants of the city, but also people coming from the countryside or from the villages nearby took part in it. On that occasion the capital was even more crowded and moving became almost a problem.

Arslan and the rest of the group had to leave their horses at the gate that connected the royal area to the actual city and go on walking. Two soldiers armed with spears opened the cortege paving their way among the crowd to make the king and his guests pass through. Farangis and another guard followed them, then came Arslan and Étoile with the lusitanian knights, while two other guards closed the line. Actually, moving among the chaos wasn't too difficult: as soon as the people recognized the king, exulting yells rose and everyone stepped aside to let him pass, greeting him and invoking his name.

«You must be really loved…», Étoile noticed as for the umpteenth time a woman tried to pave her way and hand him a bunch of colorful flowers. Arslan didn't manage to accept the gift but he greeted and thanked her with a gesture of his hand.

«I often come to the city. I like being among them, I think it's important for a king to keep contact with his people», he explained turning his gaze to her. Étoile nodded satisfied with the reply.

They crossed the market stopping from time to time at some stands where the king showed his guests a typical parsian product or he invited them to taste the spiced breads just taken out the oven that the bakers offered to the passersby. They went up one of the concentric circles of walls that defended the city and from there a breathtaking sight opened in front of their eyes. On one side extended the lush parsian countryside illuminated by the hot summer sun and on which appeared small yellowish villages, while on the other side erected the lively city flooded with people they had just crossed.

«It's stunning!», Thibaut exclaimed looking around.

«The tales about this city don't exaggerate when they define her the "gem of the Continental Highway" », Malakai said. «You must be really proud, Your Majesty».

«I am», Arslan confirmed looking at the lusitanian knight, then at the colorful roofs of Ecbatana. «The credit for such magnificence goes to her inhabitants, who work hard so that the city can grow and get better day by day», he said pointing at the construction sites scattered among the buildings.

They spent over an hour discussing the projects the sovereign wanted to realize to make Ecbatana even more livable and bright, and the lusitanian soldiers were shocked when the king asked for their opinions as well. Étoile laughed amused by their baffled expressions, wondering if she had opened her eyes and mouth wide like that when years ago Arslan surprised her with that simple and spontaneous behavior of his.

They got back in the labyrinth of streets and stopped to eat in a typical inn outside the crucial center of the open-air market, a location that was calmer and more easily defendable, so the guards could rest too. Farangis followed the king's every move without speaking. What had to be a quick and light meal turned soon into a multi-course lunch and when the dining companions left the inn the sun had already began to lower towards the horizon.

They headed for a slightly uphill path, flanked by short buildings from whose balconies hung plants and colorful flowers. They were proceeding calmly, but suddenly Arslan blocked. Everyone stopped and the guards immediately worried. Étoile looked around cautious and her men did the same. Farangis, however, seemed to be perfectly calm, rather, she bent her lips in a light smile.

«Oh, no! There's nothing to worry about!», the king appeased them chuckling. «I almost forgot to show you something. This way!», he exclaimed grabbing Étoile's hand and dragging her in a narrow side street. The soldiers looked at each other surprised and for a moment they seemed unsure about what to do.

«Didn't you hear His Majesty? Come on!», Farangis urged them, venturing into the lane. The men follower her without blinking an eye.

Arslan and Étoile came out in a small square with some stands and a big fountain from which a horse and its owner were drinking. Étoile looked around and those walls seemed terribly familiar to her. Arslan led her in a wide road that flanked the square and the girl had no more doubts. An unmistakable long-necked creature whose yellow fur was covered with large brown stains overlooked the roofs of the near buildings, lowering from time to time to tear off a leaf from the tree planted in its fence. The young lusitanian looked at the animal for a few seconds and it was more than enough to remember her very first, incredible visit to the city of Ecbatana. She saw herself as a child pretending to be a soldier and running on the roofs dragging with her none other than the prince of Pars while a squad of soldiers ran after them wielding spears and swords.

«It's called a "giraffe". It's an herbivorous animal and it comes from a very distant land». Arslan's voice brought her back to reality abruptly. She stared at him for a few moments trying to decipher the enigmatic smile the young man was addressing to her. Then suddenly she understood and burst out laughing loudly, Arslan joined her immediately.

«You asked me what it was and where it came from», the king said catching his breath. «I remembered you were still waiting for an answer». Étoile stopped laughing and composed herself.

«Are you serious?», she asked him opening her eyes wide. «It's been eight years and you still remember?»

«Of course!», he answered. «I remember every single moment of that day…», the young man confessed looking again at the giraffe that casually tore another leaf from the poor tree. The young sovereign smiled letting himself get carried away by his memories and unconsciously squeezed Étoile's hand. The girl sensed it immediately and only then she realized that they were still holding hands. A hot flush rose from her chest heating up her face and she needn't see herself to realize she was blushing. She withdrew her hand gently, keeping her eyes low to avoid Arslan's gaze. She felt him turning towards her, but the king didn't speak because in that moment Farangis and the other men reached them.

The sovereign showed them the giraffe and all the other animals that the so called "Masters of entertainment" had brought to the city to impress her inhabitants. They were creatures of many different shapes and colorful furs. Big enough cages, provided with food and water according to every animal's needs, were built for each one of them.

«The king agreed on the shows as long as the animals won't get mistreated», one of the guards explained noticing Kostàs's curious look, as he got closer to each fence studying it in great detail.

The heat of the sun was diminished by a nice breeze and one of the soldiers of the royal guard suggested a horse ride in the countryside to conclude the day benefitting from the warm temperature of the afternoon. Everyone accepted gladly and got the horses again, then they came out the western gate of the city. They rode for a few parasangs* and reached a large open space that had been deforested. About fifty men were heading towards the path that led to the city. At the crossroad with a country trail many wagons were waiting for them to carry the most tired and old ones. Arslan made the horses stop and greeted them.

«These men are working on the construction of a new irrigation system», he explained pointing proudly at the large open space. «The project belongs to Narsus, and if everything goes well, it will be concluded within one year and our farmers will have to struggle much less».

«In Lusitania such a project could not even be conceived…», Yanis commented with a certain sadness.

«Our homeland needs peace and serenity. Only then we'll be able to strive to get better», Malakai said placing a hand on his shoulder. Étoile looked at them smiling bitterly.

«I have no doubts that Lusitania will stand up again and I'm sure she's going to become a great power», Arslan stated with conviction. The determination in the king's voice was so steady it managed to raise the lusitanians soldiers' morale.

The ride continued through the limitless fields of the region. Each of them were marked with little flags of different colors, that, as the king explained, were used to identify the landowner that possessed the field. It was up to him to employ the peasants who worked the fields and who kept the harvest essential to their subsistence, depositing the remaining amount to the owner himself.

When they returned to the palace the sun was about to set. They left the horses to the attendants so that they could bring them to the stables and they headed to the staircase that led to the square in front of the palace. They crossed it. The last sunrays shattered against the precious stones embedded in the walls creating a dazzling game of reflections. The small group reached the gateway to the actual palace and there they found a man wearing elegant, embroidered clothes and a rather weird headgear, waiting for them. As soon as the king got closer to him he bowed widely and exhorted the two servants behind him to come forward and offer the sovereign a water soaked cloth to freshen up.

«Thank you, Cyrus», Arslan said, ordering then that the same treatment was given to the others as well. «Did something happen in my absence?»

«Nothing worthy of your attention, Majesty. Has your visit to the city been pleasant?»

«Yes», the king answered. «I hope the same can be said for you», he added turning to the lusitanian knights, who smiled and nodded vigorously. Cyrus glanced at the five soldiers ambiguously and his diffidence didn't go unnoticed to Arslan.

«These knights come from Lusitania and are our guests. She's Commander Étoile», the young sovereign said placing his hand on her back, «and these are her men: Malakai, Thibaut, Yanis and Kostàs». The mentioned ones greeted with a head nod, that Cyrus returned.

«Yes», he said plainly. «I heard about their visit».

«This is Lord Cyrus», Arslan then stated turning to his guests. «He's one of my most trustworthy counselors and a respectable member of the Court». The man smiled taking pride in the sovereign's words.

Cyrus was a man of about fifty years of age, short, thin and sharp-featured. His beard was grey like his hair, visible from under the strange headgear, and his eyes were icy-blue. A pendant with a big ruby hung from his neck and his fingers were decorated with extravagant rings made of gold and precious stones.

Kostàs looked at the man, then at the king, who was wearing a simple, barely embroidered white tunic and blue pants and he found it really strange how in Pars a simple nobleman displayed more riches than his own king.

«Your Majesty, the Council for the update on the kingdom's state will be starting soon. I'm afraid it is better to go inside», the man said.

«You're right», Arslan agreed. Then he turned to his guests. «I'm sorry I have to leave you, but it's a very important meeting and … »

«You don't have to justify yourself», Étoile interrupted him. «You are a king and you have your duties. It's only natural». Arslan smiled softly.

«Good then. Farangis will accompany you to the apartments. Should you need anything, do not hesitate to ask. I'll see you soon!», and, escorted by the guards, he followed Cyrus to the palace's hall waving his hand in mid-air.

The priestess accompanied the knights to their accommodations. She greeted them politely and reached her companions in the small temple of Mithra next to the palace.

 ***** The **parasang** is a historical  Iranian unit of itinerant distance (Persian: پارسنگ٫ پاره سنگ ), the length of which varied according to terrain and speed of travel.

* * *

 **A/N: if you are legitimately wondering why it took me so long to update, here's the answer: I have to write each chapter in Italian, correct it, translate it into English and then try to reduce the grammar mistakes as much as possible. Considering I'm quite busy with University and work, this whole process takes me a month. That's why I decided to publish a new chapter every second Saturday or Sunday of the month. I know it's a lot of waiting, but this allows me to be as regular as possible. I hope you'll understand. Thanks again :)**

 **\- Kiara**


	3. Shining Eyes

**A/N: Hi! Here's a new chapter. I hope you'll enjoy it. Once again, thanks to all who read/reviewed/favorited this story so far.**  
 **Chapter Three: Shining Eyes**

* * *

Arslan retired in his rooms the time necessary to freshen up and change his clothes, then he came down again and reached the Council room. Elam and Daryun were waiting for him at the entrance. The two asked him how his day had been and the sovereign told them briefly how crowded the open-air market was and how much surprised Kostàs and the others were to see all those animals.

When the king entered, the most absolute silence filled the room and everyone stood up welcome him. Arslan reached his throne, he sat on it and with a gesture of his hand he allowed the participants to take a seat themselves. The counselor arranged themselves to form a rectangle around a giant map of the entire Kingdom of Pars. Daryun took place at the right of the sovereign, while Elam stopped at the other side of the room, looking at the king.

«Good evening to everyone!», Arslan greeted them politely. The participants greeted him back bowing their heads. «If no one is against it, I'd start with the reading of the monthly report on the Kingdom's economy». He waited for a few seconds skimming with his eyes the men's faces. Nobody opened his mouth. Arslan then directed a gesture of his hand to Elam and the young man stood up, unrolled the scroll he was holding and started reading loud and clear.

When he finished a heavy and oppressive silence fell upon the room. Arslan rubbed a hand on his face and looked at his counselors. Some of them kept their eyes low, others stared at the map or looked around. Elam closed the scroll again and sat at the left of the sovereign.

«How is it possible that in a month the destitute families of Ecbatana have almost doubled?», the king asked loudly. No one dares answer him. «According to what had been approved during the meetings of the Legislative Council the ones who belonged to the lowest classes should have been lawfully hired in the construction sites and as workers in the new irrigations system. Am I wrong?», the young sovereign urged.

«You are not, Sire», a man with a thick black beard confirmed. «All the workers who have been employed in the latest thirty days come from the lowest classes of the city».

«What's the problem then? What are we missing?», Arslan resumed standing up. He started walking back and forth holding thoughtful his chin.

«My King, I ask your permission to speak!»

Arslan lifted his eyes and saw a man, clearly the youngest among the members of the Council, with his hand raised. He recognized his beardless face immediately: it was Narsus who persuaded him to appoint the young man as a counselor because he was clever and honest. The king nodded and he stood up.

«According to Counselor Elam's report, in the last month the requests of who wanted to take up residence in Ecbatana moving from the countryside have increased dramatically. This transfer and the poverty growth are undoubtedly related. In my opinion, if we want to find the cause of this chain of events, the most appropriate move is to investigate the countryside itself: it is there that this vicious circle starts». The young counselor concluded his speech and went back to his seat. A whispered buzz spread among the other members.

«I understand your argument, Adel, and I support acting as you suggest. Does someone want to intervene?», Arslan asked.

«I do, Majesty», Cyrus answered. The king nodded. «I respect Counselor Adel's point of view, but I feel I can guarantee that work in the countryside has always been conducted only within the limits of the royal decrees. I own some field myself and I can refer what I see with my own eyes». Cyrus bent his head and moved back again.

«I understand your point of view as well Cyrus», Arslan commented. «I ask you not to feel offended by Adel's words. I'm sure he did not mean to accuse anyone», the sovereign continued while the young counselor's face was turning purple, aware of having suggested not exactly trivial insinuations towards a man of Lord Cyrus' caliber. «What's really important now, is to decide an action plan that allows us to face this problem. We are talking about people, our fellow citizens, entire families which is our precise duty to help with every means will be necessary». Everyone nodded and Daryun smiled, proud of the secure and decisive tone with which the king declared his intentions.

«Does someone else want to speak?», the sovereign asked after a few moments of silence. No one moved. «Alright. This Council has only an advisory function, so I think it's convenient to end the meeting here. I'll summon the Legislative Council tomorrow morning instead. Notify the ones who aren't present tonight of this», he said to the heralds waiting for orders at the end of the room. «You're free to go. Have a good night!».

Everyone stood up and headed towards the exit. Someone even took the liberty of delivering a pat of encouragement on poor Adel's back, who was starting to recover after his rash speech. Daryun and Elam left with the sovereign.

«Majesty, I ordered to arrange dinner in your rooms», Elam said. Arslan looked at him frowning slightly.

«Actually, I thought I would have dinner with Étoile…»

«Surely she has already dined by now. The Council lasted longer than expected and the cooks had received order to serve the guests at a given hour», the young man explained. Arslan glanced outside the windows and realized it was pitch dark and the guards were already beginning to prepare the bonfires for the night. The young king sighed.

* * *

Lord Cyrus was the last one to leave the room. He greeted the king and his companions and took the first flight of stairs on the left. He went down almost running and reached the corridor on the ground floor. He walked for a few meters, then he opened the door in the right wall and entered the room. He grabbed the black cloak hanging from a nail stuck in the wall and put it on, pulling the hood over his head. Then he moved a wooden closet pushing it with his arms. A trapdoor kept closed by a big lock appeared on the floor. Cyrus opened it and lifted the board that covered the passage to go in.

The tunnel was completely dark, but he knew it like the back of his hand. He advanced with a form step and passed easily over the water rivulets that from time to time flower horizontally to his path. He turned to the right and, out of nowhere, appeared a man holding a crackling torch, motionless. Cyrus didn't get scared, not even a little bit.

«My Lord», the mysterious man greeted him. «Everyone's inside. We are waiting only for you».

Cyrus grabbed the torch and advanced in the tunnel until he found himself in front of a door. He thrusted it open and found about twenty men welcoming him, all wearing the black cloak. The man closed the door behind his back and hung the torch on the wall. Other torches had already been placed, but the light wasn't enough to illuminate the small rounded room completely.

Everyone positioned in circle around a small altar made of grey rock on which stood out unmistakable red stains.

«So, what news do you bring us from the Council?», one of the hooded men asked with hoarse voice.

«Nothing good. It seems the king is inclined to investigations in the countryside», Cyrus answered. A buzz of disapproval spread among the participants.

«Anyway there's nothing to worry about for now. Nothing has been decided about it yet».

«What do you suggest then, my Lord?», another one asked. Cyrus moved the hood slightly and looked around.

«For now the wisest thing to do is wait. Once we know how the king will act, we'll move consequently». For a few minutes the crackling of the torches was the only thing that could be heard.

«Rather…», Cyrus resumed. «Did you find out something about what I asked you to investigate?»

«Only about the girl», the man on his right answered. «They say she met the king during the battle at the Keep of Saint Emmanuel of June 321. She was only a squire back then».

Cyrus nodded. He waited for a few moments, then he grabbed the torch he had hung on the wall and exited the room.

* * *

«You know what? I'll resign the army and move here!»

«And I'm gladly joining you, Yanis!», Thibaut yelled before bursting out laughing with his comrade. Malakai looked at them shaking his head as they filled the umpteenth cup with wine. Kostàs gave them sideway looks, sitting on the white marble parapet. Étoile stared at them leaning against a porphyry column and judged their conversation so absurd she decided against intervening. They were so excited that scolding them would have been useless. Once sure her words would have had the desired result, she would have made them regret having even thought what they had said.

It was a beautiful summer night. The temperature was perfect and the sky was adorned with stars. The cooks had prepared a delicious dinner for the lusitanian guests and had served it in a small, private, richly finished room. Then the knights had moved to a terrace that faces the luxuriant and neat inner garden. There they were served sweets and wine at will. Étoile, Malakai and Kostàs drank conscientiously, but Yanis and Thibaut decided to take advantage of it and indulged gluttony without embarrassment.

In that short visit to the capital they had been able to see with their own eyes the splendor and wealth of the thriving kingdom of Pars and the misery their homeland was experiencing looked even more hopeless.

«Our Commander was right! This place is covered in gold! Can you think of it, Thibaut, can you?», Yanis exclaimed shaking his friend by his arms. «Luxurious clothes and meals worthy of a king! If this is what it means to be parsian, I'll think about it…»

«Oh come on!», Kostàs exclaimed getting off the parapet. «Are you even listening to yourselves? You are knights of Lusitania, for crying out loud! And moreover followers of the Faith of Yaldabaoth! You should be proud and honorable warriors who fight for the people, not two drunkards!»

Malakai smiled and looked at Étoile. He was sure she had recognized her own words in the young man's earnest speech.

«Hey! Calm down! You're telling me you'd rather sleep on the ground than on a bed like those ones?», Yanis asked pointing at an undefined spot on the wall behind his back.

«The sheets!», Thibaut intervened leaning against his friend languidly. «I mean, have you felt how soft there sheets are?»

Kostàs blushed indignant and Malakai burst out laughing.

«Malakai, now you're getting involved in this too?», the young man yelled at him.

«Don't be offended, boy», he answered him with his deep voice. «Don't you see them? They're teasing you… and they're half drunk». Kostàs listened to the man and sat again on the parapet, snorting.

«Also…», Malakai resumed unexpectedly. «I'm afraid our friends forgot that Parsians have this much because they're tireless workers. They may be heathens, but we have to acknowledge this credit of theirs».

«Yeah», Thibaut commented as if he had just woken up after a long sleep. «There were so many construction sites everywhere in the city…»

«And I don't really think those workers are sipping precious wine under the stars right now…», Malakai concluded looking at his comrades straight into their eyes. «Beware, what you're praising is not all parsians' life. Don't forget we're personal guests of the king».

Yanis and Thibaut seemed touched by those words and nodded slightly.

«Yeah, we're guests… _special guests_ », Yanis added pronouncing the last two words ambiguously. Instinctively, everyone looked at the commander. Étoile turned around and realized her men's eyes were one her. She stared at them for a few moments, speechless, but she sensed in their look a subtle malice that made her uncomfortable.

«What's wrong with you?», she asked annoyed, leaving her spot in half-light.

«Nothing! The fact is, we noticed the king was really happy to see you again…», Yanis answered casually.

«So?», Étoile urged.

«Well, we had expected he would have welcomed you with open arms…», Yanis resumed.

«But we didn't imagine he would actually hug you. I mean, not that… tight», Thibaut explained squeezing his arms around his own chest. Étoile looked at them frowning for a few seconds.

«What on earth are you talking about?», she said as a light blush reddened her cheeks.

«You told us you two met at the Keep of Saint Emmanuel and then you followed him in the liberation of Ecbatana», Yanis started.

«Exactly».

«And that you've been sort of an ambassador to him, someone to confront with and make arrangements just after the war», Thibaut continued.

«Yes, so what?», Étoile asked growing more and more impatient. Thibaut and Yanis exchanged a knowing glance and the smirks that appeared on their faces were anything but innocent.

«Are you sure you told us everything that's happened while you were in Pars?»

Étoile understood at once what the two were hinting at and she blushed furiously.

«How can something like that even cross your mind!?», she yelled scandalized while Yanis and Thibaut barely held back a chuckle.

«But Commander! Didn't you notice how the king stared at you during last night's dinner? His eyes were shining», Yanis said.

«Or today, in the city, when you looked the other way he watched you enchanted for a full minute!», Thibaut exclaimed.

«Once he kept staring at her for minute and a half! I counted the seconds!», Yanis told his friend to validate his words.

«And he even took your hand Commander!»

«That's enough!», Étoile shouted getting threatening closer to the two.

«And the way he smiles at you! I've never seen anyone smiling like that!», the knight continued instead. Étoile lifted a hand to her face and started tapping her foot on the ground, clearly on edge. And her men's chuckling sure didn't help.

«Malakai!», she exclaimed at Thibaut's umpteenth insinuation. «Say something before I pierce these two idiots from side to side!»

The man had followed the entire scene sitting comfortably on his wooden chair without saying a word. He seemed to hesitate, then he moved and spoke.

«Forgive me, Commander, but I've never seen anyone's eyes shining more than King Arslan's when he looks at you».

Silence fell upon the terrace. Étoile, Yanis and Thibaut stared incredulous at Malakai, who after a few seconds burst out laughing. The other two joined him more than gladly and Étoile closed her eyes clenching her fists to avoid piercing her men for real.

«Cut it out! What's gotten into you tonight?», Kostàs yelled suddenly, jumping from the parapet. His interference shut everyone up, as they had almost forgotten his presence since he didn't move the whole time.

«Does it seem respectful to speak to your Commander that way?». Étoile nodded and glared at the three that stared at Kostàs blankly. «If she hasn't told us anything else, it means there's nothing else to be told!», he continued overheated. «And I'm absolutely sure she would never betray her faith!»

«Exactly», Étoile would have wanted to exclaim, but her voice cracked on the last syllable of the word. She felt a lump in her throat and her heartbeat sped up. She turned her face to the dark sky beyond the terrace to calm down and ward off that sudden inquietude.

«Oh come on, Kostàs! You're always so dramatic!», Yanis grumbled.

«Yeah! If it were for you life would be a neverending tragedy!», Thibaut echoed.

«Wait a moment!», Yanis exclaimed getting closer to Kostàs. «You aren't jealous, are you?»

«What?», the young man retorted indignant.

«There's no other explanation!»

«You're crazy! And furthermore, you're drunk!», Kostàs tried to defend himself.

«No, no! Yanis is right! You're blushing!»

Kostàs growled at him and attempted to hide his face with his hands when Étoile turned curious to look at him. Malakai smiled and Yanis and Thibaut started teasing the poor boy.

Their squalling voices could be heard from the corridor and the young knight's attempts to shut them up were of no avail. At the umpteenth malicious comment, Kostàs lost his temper.

«I've had enough of this!», he yelled wilding his fist in mid-air, ready to pounce on his comrades.

«Pardon me, am I bothering you?», Kostàs stopped and turned abruptly towards the entrance of the terrace.

Arslan had appeared all of a sudden and was looking confused at the scene in front of him. Malakai was turning his back on him sitting comfortably, Yanis and Thibaut slumped on their armchairs with the goblets still in their hands and Kostàs stood above them with his fist clenched. Étoile flushed in shame.

«No!», she answered stepping forward and glaring at her men. «We were thinking of retiring for the night, am I right?», she added peremptorily staring at the knights' faces one by one. They nodded and stood up trying to appear at least decent-looking. Then they headed slowly towards the entrance greeting the king with a nod.

«Thank you for the dinner», Étoile said and she was about to follow her men when Arslan grabbed her by her arm.

«Wait», he told her. «Would you like to take a walk?»

Étoile looked at him hesitant. She heard Yanis whispering something into Thibaut's ear and he chuckled softly. She would have wanted to refuse to avoid giving her men more reasons to chatter about her relationship with Arslan, but she couldn't resist his gentle smile.

* * *

They walked in the inner garden for a bit, then they moved to the small park right next to the palace's wall. They climbed an ocher staircase and reached one of the walkways that run above the palace's outermost wall. On the inner wall of the crenelation were hanging big torches that illuminated the whole path of a warm, orange light.

«The city is shining as it used to be», Étoile said suddenly gazing at the sleeping capital. «I'm happy you managed to fulfill your dreams».

«In truth there's still much to do…», Arslan admitted.

«Even so, it's magnificient. My men are deeply fascinated».

Arslan smiled.

«I'm sorry I didn't join you for dinner. The Council lasted longer than expected», the young sovereign justified himself.

«Don't worry», Étoile reassured him. They walked for a few meters, in silence.

«How was the meeting?», the girl asked suddenly. Arslan's face darkened. «Sorry», the young woman then blurted. «These are things that don't concern me».

«Elam reported on the kingdom's situation. The city sparkles, but the families are poorer and poorer and I don't understand why», he explained her failing to hide a certain sorrow. He told her about Adel's speech, Cyrus', the wisest counselors' fleeting glances. Étoile listened to him in silence. When the sovereign talked about the countryside, in the girl's mind took shape the endless expanse of fields that she had seen that very afternoon, all perfectly taken care of, marked by their fluttering colorful flags. They were blue, red, yellow, green, … She made and effort but she couldn't remember having seen other colors. Arslan had stopped talking and was looking at Étoile a little embarrassed.

«I'm boring you, right?», Étoile left her thoughts and shook her head.

«I was just thinking about the horse ride we went for today in the countryside», she confessed. «Your system to identify whom the field belongs to is interesting: simple and practical».

«Yeah», Arslan said lost in his thoughts. «Since there are more than thirty landowners dividing Ecbatana's lands, that was the best method to opt for».

«But the flags' colors weren't more than four or five…», Étoile commented quietly.

«What did you say?», Arslan asked her opening his eyes wide.

«Nothing! Never mind», the girl replied waving her hand nonchalantly.

«No. you know I highly value what you think», the king reassured her looking straight into her eyes.

«Well», the young lusitanian started hesitant. «The flags planted in the fields were of only four of five colors, as many as the landowners that they stand for, according to the system's logic». Arslan lifted his hand to his chin and pondered over it for a few seconds.

«That's true», the sovereign agreed eventually. «I'll have to check the register about the fields' buying and selling. It's a legitimate activity, but I find it strange that so many have sold their fields all at once. You gave me an excellent starting point Étoile. Thank you».

«But I didn't…»

«I'll tell Elam to get me those documents straight away», Arslan continued glancing at the sleeping city. The resolution in his voice was so strong Étoile couldn't help but smile shaking her head.

She stood there staring at him in silence while the king told her about how the Council could be going the next day. His words however reached the young lusitanian's ears like a chant that little by little faded into the burning torches' crackling.

Étoile didn't even remember the last time she had looked at Arslan's figure so carefully, but she was absolutely certain that the young man had really changed since they had separated.

One could tell the strength of his legs even from under his pants, and the very short tunic he was wearing was so tight that the outline of the muscles it covered could be easily guessed. His wide shoulders surely weren't the ones of a boy anymore, but of a young man, used to hard and steady trainings. And the expression on his face, framed by his silver hair that reached his shoulders, had lost part of the naivety that characterized it so much.

She didn't see the inexperienced and clumsy prince of her childhood anymore, but an ambitious, young king, aware of his strength, who loved his people as much as they loved him. And his voice, that was starting to be distinguishable from the fire crackling again, was even deeper and charming.

When Arslan stopped talking he turned around to look at Étoile and smiled softly. The girl didn't move, but she felt clearly the lump in her throat that had seized her when she was on the terrace with her men. She swallowed and stared at the sovereign's blue eyes intensely.

She had never seen them shining like that.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I'm sorry for grammar or syntax errors. If you have some advices or observations, feel free to let me know. Bye bye! :)**


	4. Trust Me

**A/N: Hello everyone! I'm back with another chapter. Things start to get interesting... .**

 **Azrael plays a very important role in this chapter. I didn't know whether to use "it" or "he" when speaking about our favorite hawk. Anyway, considering how close Arslan and Azrael are and, I decided to refer to him as a person. I hope you won't find it odd.**

 **Thanks to all who read/reviewed/favorited this story so far!**

 **Chapter Four: Trust Me**

* * *

Arslan was sitting alone on his throne holding his head with his left arm as if it had suddenly become too heavy. Heavy and oppressive like the thoughts that crowded his mind. He recalled in his memory every phase of the meeting of the Legislative Council, an inconclusive one, that had done nothing but worsen his worry.

Elam had been quick and efficient as usual and Arslan had been able to read to the counselors the information of the registers about the buying and selling. There were the names of many parsian noblemen and dignitaries, respectable and well known people, men who had given up politics to dedicate themselves to business and commerce. After the king had pronounced loud and clear the last name that appeared on the list, silence fell upon them.

The counselors kept their gazes low, focused on the kingdom's map and when the sovereign had asked them if they had some sort of explanation for what was happening, they didn't know what to answer.

Someone had started saying that probably many of the landowners had reached an age that did not allow them to keep up with the tiring field work, others that maybe part of the sellers had been hopelessly lured by the city life, enough to disdain the countryside and sell its plots. Adel knew all too well that all those so clumsy advanced justifications wouldn't have surely convinced the king, so he decided to keep quiet. Apparently Cyrus, whose name hadn't appeared on the list, shared the same view and had listened to his colleagues' speeches without talking.

Arslan had managed to stop the long sequence of theories proposed by the members of the Council only with an exasperated gesture of his hand.

When silence had fallen again Arslan hadn't hidden his disappointment and had made the participants clearly realize that the situation needed to be resolved straight away and without waste any more time.

The sovereign knew that the elements to understand what was happening were still too few, so he had dismissed the counselors. Not even Daryun or Elam had been admitted to his presence.

Arslan glanced at the sky outside the window. It was a wonderful summer morning, but the blazing sunlight wasn't enough to lighten the young king's gloomy thoughts.

* * *

The walls stood tall and mighty against the sky. Étoile raised her eyes protecting them from the sun with her hand to see the top, but the battlements faded into the sweltering summer air. She looked at the city walls from top to bottom up to the muddy water of the moat dug around the capital. A shiver ran down her spine: once her craving for freedom had been so strong it pushed her to jump into the void from those very walls; whether it had been courage or recklessness, she couldn't tell yet.

«They're terrific, aren't they?», Alfreed's voice hissed all of a sudden in the young lusitanian's thoughts. Étoile turned around and saw the girl coming closer to her holding her horse by the bridles.

«I had never stopped to look at them this carefully. There walls are huge», Étoile confessed, turning her gaze back to the enormous pinkish rock blocks.

«We are ready to leave again. Shall we go?», Alfreed told her straddling her horse. The young woman nodded and reached her own horse. She mounted it and followed her friend trotting.

Alfreed had received the order to inspect the outer circle of walls with her squad of knights and that morning she showed up at the doorstep of the apartment assigned to Étoile to ask her to accompany them. The girl accepted gladly and put on her civilian clothes quickly without forgetting to hang her sword to the large belt.

They rode for a couple of hours and covered just half of the walls' circumference; the team often stopped to control suspicious elements, weird swellings in the terrain or unexpected holes dug in the moat's banks. The knights gave themselves just a short break, then the inspection resumed.

«A lot of things changed, don't you think?», Alfreed asked all of a sudden.

«Yes. Without doubt», Étoile agreed riding at her side.

«I must confess that when I met you, five years ago, I couldn't really stand you», Alfreed admitted with a certain embarrassment.

«Well, I can tell you the feeling was mutual!», Étoile said chuckling. Then she smiled softly. «Indeed, I can't blame you», she resumed right after. «I was so blinded by zealotry that I couldn't distinguish right from wrong…»

Alfreed turned to look at her friend and noticed the expression of regret painted on her face.

«But now you do understand it. This is what matters», she tried to console her. The unexpected sweetness in Alfreed's voice raised Étoile's spirits.

«Yes, and I'm happy about this», the lusitanian said. «It's important not only for me, but also for my men».

«They seem interesting guys. How did you enlist them?», Alfreed asked curious. Étoile kept quiet for a few instants to gather her thoughts, the she talked.

«The first one was Thibaut. He had always loved being a soldier and he had applied to the establishment of the new regular army. He was animated by noble intentions, but he'd been rejected because he wasn't robust enough and the new commanders wanted to avoid succumbing to the misfits that returned from the war at all costs. Surely Thibaut hasn't received the gift of strength, but he has been given another one of crucial importance. He's fast, agile, he can penetrate the enemy lines without even being seen…», Étoile's description was so detailed that Alfreed thought to see the lusitanian knight paving his way in the throng in front of her.

«I had just received the order to go to Misr on a mission when I saw him training on his own in the middle of a field. I waited until he finished, then I got closer and made my proposal. Thibaut seemed more than happy and accepted to go back to have an active role in the Nation without blinking an eye».

«What a story!», Alfreed exclaimed. «Did it go like this for the others too?». Étoile's lips bent in a slight grimace.

«Not really. The second enlisted was Yanis», the young woman said sighing.

«Yanis? Yeah, I remember his face. He's the blonde one, isn't he?», Alfreed asked to be sure.

«Exactly. Regarding Yanis it was a little more… complicated», the commander began. «He became a knight when he was really young and at the cost of many sacrifices. He lived with his poor and ill mother, and his soldier pay was their only means of support. He left with the army for the campaign against Maryam, but he was soon repatriated. He had grown up in the streets and his free spirit wasn't really fit to live under the strict military discipline. Once he returned home, he saw with his own eyes the oppression of the battalions that had stayed in defense of the cities and wearing the knight uniform made him feel complicit in those abuses. Hs mother died shortly after and Yanis abandoned the military livery. He joined some group of independent warriors, which in the eyes of law were nothing but bandits, however in reality they fought to lend dignity to poor people and outcasts. When the war ended, he was arrested and spent more than a year in prison, charged with desertion. I learnt of his story from an old man who had known him and searching for information among the survived people I managed to track him down. A strong and resolute man, a tireless warrior the defended people's rights: he was exactly the soldier I wanted in my team. It wasn't easy to convince him to resume him role as a knight, but I succeeded eventually». Alfreed had listened to the whole story with bated breath. She had to admit she was fascinated by those events and the curiosity that those mysterious men, arrived in a summer afternoon, suddenly raised in her, grew even more.

«Kostàs was the third enlisted», Étoile resumed. «Once, his family was part of the highest nobility, but when the war ended they fell victims to some shady plots whose guilty parties are still unknown. Kostàs had been educated to join someday the army's élite squads, but, disgraced his peerage, he lost the right to enlist. One day I was walking through the streets of my city when he appeared in front of me out of nowhere. He told me he had heard me giving a speech somewhere and it had inspired him deeply. He knew I was looking for men for a diplomatic mission and he begged me to take him in. I had never met him before, I knew nothing about him, and yet, the ardor that those such dark eyes spread convinced me. He's only one year older than me. Later I found out he's also an excellent archer».

«Wow!», Alfreed exclaimed. «It seems one of those fictional tale I listened to when I was a child», she said nostalgically. «And how did it go with the last knight? I can't remember his name…»

«Malakai?», Étoile suggested her smiling.

«Yes!», the young parsian confirmed. «He seems… different».

«He's a veteran by now», Étoile began. «As Kostàs did, it was he who found me. We met one night. I remember it was raining and I was having dinner in an inn. Malakai entered and sat on my table without saying anything. He already knew my name and that I was about to leave on a mission. He said to me it had been Count Barcacion who told him about me years earlier and that he wants to put his long experience at the disposal of the mission».

«Count Barcacion? I remember this name…», Alfreed commented.

«He was the Lord of the Keep of Saint Emmanuel. He chose to die with his people in the battle against your army in June 321», Étoile told her bitterly. Alfreed nodded softly. They kept quiet for a few instants.

«How did it end with Malakai?», Alfreed asked suddenly.

«He told me about his military career, about how the Count saved his life and I decided to accept his proposal. And then a week later we left for Misr», Étoile concluded.

«It's incredible how such different stories and lives can intertwine so unexpectedly», Alfreed commented thoughtful.

«At first it wasn't easy to live side by side peacefully, but with time we learnt to understand each other and now we are really close», Étoile affirmed smiling. Alfreed looked at her for a few instants.

«You did something wonderful…». Étoile stared at her raising an eyebrow.

«What do you mean?»

«You gave those men a second chance. They had lost confidence in themselves and you offered them a reason to go back to action», Alfreed explained.

Étoile smiled thinking of those four knights that she had been dragging with her for months. Sometimes they exasperated her, but she would have never given up any of them.

«They deserve it. I was offered a second chance too and that's was saved me», Étoile admitted staring at the bridles she was holding in her hands.

«It was thanks to His Majesty, right?», Alfreed provoked her, but Étoile didn't react at the pinch of malice in the young woman's voice.

«Yes», she answered calmly. «But also thanks to all of you…», she admitted looking straight into her eyes. Alfreed smiled widely.

«Oh, you're welcome!», she retorted chuckling.

* * *

The inspection continued for a few hours and the afternoon passed calmly. Alfreed and her squad had a quick lunch and then they could rest. Étoile, instead, reached her men and took the opportunity to make them train. She feared that all that luxury was relaxing them a little too much and her suspicions were partly confirmed by the grimace that Yanis did as soon as the commander ordered them to pick up the swords. But what really annoyed him was the dinner they were served shortly after the sunset: quick and light, just as Étoile herself had asked the cooks. Indulging themselves with the pleasures of the cooking wasn't certainly acceptable for valiant knights of Lusitania.

The only one who followed Étoile's orders enthusiastically was Kostàs. After the fight he had with his comrades the night before, he had no intention of appearing ridiculous in front of his commander. He trained diligently and ate the legumes and vegetables' soup without blinking an eye, on the contrary, he showed he enjoyed a lot that forced comeback to simplicity.

However, his mere obedience didn't seem enough to prove to Étoile his complete support. The young knight decided to put into words his regret for what had happened, with the promise that it wouldn't have occurred ever again. He looked for the commander around the whole Palace's wing reserved to the guests, but he didn't find her. He knocked at the door of her apartment, thinking she had already retired for the night, and he received no response. In that moment, Thibaut was passing through the hallway, traipsing on his sore legs and swearing when from time to time a new pang of pain hit his back.

«Hey, Thibaut!», Kostàs exclaimed getting closer to him. «Do you by any chance know where the commander is?»

«Yes, and you won't like the answer…», Thibaut responded in a malicious tone. «King Arslan came to see us and then they left together». Kostàs bit his lip.

«Alright. It was nothing. Thank you», he said, then he headed for the corridor, leaving Thibaut alone with his aches and pains. He didn't want him to see the expression of peeve that bent his face.

* * *

The air was clear and thousands of stars stippled the blue sky. A light breeze blew over the capital, bringing coolness after another fiery day.

Arslan placed a strand of his hair that the soft wind had ruffled behind his ear. Étoile looked at him with a veil of sadness covering her eyes.

«I'm sorry the Council didn't go as you had hoped», she said after a few minutes of silence. The king had just told her about the meeting he had officiated that very morning and the young woman was desperately searching for something to say to lift his spirits. As she feared her words didn't produce the hoped effect and Arslan kept on staring at the sleeping city that expanded around the Palace. Many little reddish lights illuminated here and there the crossroads, the inns and the squares where the street artists were performing. Suddenly, a sweet melody carried by the breeze reached them on the Palace's roof with an intense scent of cinnamon. Étoile placed her hands on the parapet and leant out to locate where that music came from, but the capital was so vast that soon her eyes got lost in the maze of alleyways and squares.

Arslan turned to look at her. She was wearing her civilian clothes, however she carried her sword at her side and the soft wind made the blonde strands gotten out of her braid footing in the air.

«The problem is…», Arslan said all of a sudden, making her turn abruptly. «The sale and acquisition of land are absolutely legal activities. I can't charge a landowner for having sold his field, or another for having purchased one. And their concentration in a few hands is clearly a consequence…»

Étoile came off the parapet and moved a step towards the king. She thought for a few seconds, then her face lightened up.

«If you can't prevent it, set a limit at least», she told him. Arslan stared at her for a few instants.

«A limit?», he repeated interested in the purpose.

«Yes. You could limit the number of sales for each landowner or…»

«Or set a maximum limit for the land that each one can own. This way nobody will be able to collect lands and riches excessively», the sovereign concluded smiling. «How did I not figure this out before?»

Étoile burst out laughing at the expression of dismay that was painted on the king's face.

«If Narsus was here he would be really disappointed in me», Arslan continued placing a hand on his forehead.

Étoile's laughter faded gently. Arslan looked at her smiling.

«You know Étoile, I should appoint you as member of the Council. The credit for most of the best choices I made in my life is yours!», he told her sincerely. The smile on Étoile's face vanished at once leaving in its place a grimace.

«This is out of the question!»

A hiss tore the air and the young king lifted up his eyes to the sky. Another piercing yell and a bird of prey with bug grey wings appeared from behind the brick towers of the Royal Palace.

«Azrael!», Arslan called him raising his arm. The hawk glided extremely rapid and leaned on the sovereign's forearm, that was protected by a thick leather band.

«Has your day been good?», the king asked him stroking his head. The bird thrusted his wings open and flapped them as if he wanted to answer the young man's question. Arslan laughed as the feathers tickled his face. He put his hand in the small sack that hung from his belt and pulled out a shred of raw meat. Azrael happily flapped his wings again and accepted the bite Arslan lifted to his beak more than gladly. Étoile attended the scene without saying a word. She remembered well Azrael, the inseparable travelling companion of the sovereign of Pars. He really was one of the strangest and interesting animals she had ever met. She had even seen him throwing himself in the battle's throng to support his master.

«Do you want to try?», Arslan asked her suddenly giving the bird another shred of meat. A stronger gust of wind blew on the roof and Étoile crossed her arms to protect herself from the unexpected temperature drop.

«I don't think I should…», she answered shaking her head.

«Don't worry! He's harmless!», Arslan tried to reassure her getting closer. Étoile looked at the hawk's sharpened beak and the image of Azrael gliding towards a soldier who was about to hit Arslan and pulling out one of his eyes popped in her mind. She shook her head again to get rid of the macabre vision.

«Actually I don't…».

However, Arslan wasn't taking no for an answer. He put a shred of meat in her hand and moved the arm on which the bird was leaning closer to her.

«Come on!», the king incited her smiling. First Étoile looked at him, then at the hawk, and it seemed to her to glimpse a certain impatience in his small orange eyes. She thought that probably making him wait any longer wouldn't be a good idea, so she neared the mouthful of meat to him. Azrael grabbed it springing ahead and Étoile withdrew her hand immediately.

«See? It wasn't that difficult!», Arslan exclaimed amused as the young lusitanian checked that she still had all five her fingers. The young king lifted his arm and the hawk hovered in the air.

«You're really close…», Étoile commented noticing the proud gaze with which the sovereign followed the bird's movements.

«He's always been by my side, since the first day», Arslan answered her in a grateful tone. Then the king turned towards her again and smiled ambiguously. Étoile raised an eyebrow, confused.

«What's up with you?», she asked him.

«Now you try», he answered her unfastening the leather band and offering it to her. Étoile opened her eyes wide.

«That's not happening!», she exclaimed.

«There's nothing to be afraid of», the king said to calm her, but the young lusitanian just didn't want to agree.

«Maybe in your case!», she retorted irritated. «I'm a knight! I need my eyes!», she exclaimed as the image of the blinded soldier appeared in her mind again.

«Trust me», Arslan continued undismayed grabbing her arm to tie the leather band up. Étoile grinded her teeth annoyed.

«If something happens to me I swear I'll rip your head off!», she yelled to him. Arslan chuckled.

«As if I could ever do something that might hurt you…»

Étoile was left speechless after that confession and she let him tighten the band's laces in silence. Arslan smiled to her, but she responded with a snort.

«Good. Now keep your arm raised», the sovereign instructed her. Étoile did as she was told, but she couldn't stop trembling.

«Azrael!», Arslan called. The bird peeked out from behind a bastion and swooped down towards the king. The young man pointed him to Étoile's arm and the hawk headed incredibly fast towards the girl. Étoile closed her eyes and prayed to survive that experience still in one piece. That shaking arm, however, didn't look the safest of the supports to Azrael, in fact at the last moment he deflected the trajectory and flew beyond ruffling Étoile's hair with a flap of his wings.

Arslan burst out laughing, while the lusitanian released a couple of feathers from her blonde strands, visibly irritated.

«Not even your loyal hawk thought it was a good idea! We can get over that», the young woman stated trying to unfasten the band.

«Not at all!», Arslan exclaimed getting closer to her. «You just had to keep your arm higher. Here, I'll show you».

The king placed himself behind Étoile. He laid a hand on her waist and with the other he lifted her elbow to make her arm bend better.

«This way you won't have any problems», he reassured her, but Étoile was having same difficulty in concentrating. The closeness to Arslan was making her uncomfortable and the gentleness with which he was touching her made a shiver run down her spine. Furthermore, feeling his warm breath on her neck wasn't really helping.

«Y-Yeah. I got it», Étoile answered, hoping it would be enough to make Arslan go away, but the king maintained his grip and called Azrael.

The hawk made himself visible again and after a wide loop around the tower that stood out behind them, he leaned gracefully on Étoile's arm.

«I told you!», Arslan exclaimed and he instinctively tighten his grip on the girl's hip. For a moment even Étoile smiled with satisfaction, but when she sensed the young man's firm grasp she blushed and started so much even Azrael stumbled and preferred to flew off again. Arslan followed him with his eyes, but the young lusitanian couldn't divert her attention from that hand that pressed on her waist, or from the warm breath that brushed her neck, or even from Arslan's arm that guided hers so gently.

Étoile wiggled out of the grip and moved away from the king without looking at him: she didn't want him to see her with flushed cheeks and trembling breath. When she calmed down she turned towards him and gave him back the leather band.

«Alright. I admit it has not been that bad», she confessed raising her eyes to the sky. «Anyway, now I'd like to rest. Good night!», she exclaimed smiling, heading for the flight of stairs that led to the Palace's inside.

«Of course! Good night!», Arslan exclaimed smiling back.

Étoile went down the first steps almost running, then she calmed down and mentally cursed herself for having reacted like that to such innocent contact. When she reached the apartments' floor she was already completely calm and she recalled the evening she had just spent.

For some inexplicable reason, she couldn't help but smile.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I must confess I was forced to write it really quickly, so it possible this chapter contains more mistakes than usual. Please let me know what do you think of it.**

 **Bye!:)**

 **Kiara**


	5. Small Steps

**A/N: Hello everyone! I was supposed to publish this chapter yesterday, but I'm overwhelmed by university exams and it's really difficult to keep up with everything. Also, this chapter has not been easy to write. I tried to describe how the characters feel, something I'm not really good at, so I hope the final result won't disappoint you. I had to work really fast so I apologize if grammar or syntax aren't correct. Anyway, I'm always anxious to hear what are you thoughts on this fanfiction, so feel free to message me whenever you want!**

 **Chapter Five: Small Steps**

* * *

It was dawning when Arslan went on the panoramic terrace built alongside the eastern wing of the Palace. The king got closer to the parapet yawning. The rosy light flooded the entire valley of Ecbatana and a slight mist lingered around the city. Suddenly a dull creak resonated in the air. The young man looked straight ahead and saw the eastern urban gate lifting slowly: the capital was waking up.

Arslan yawned again and rubbed a hand over his face. He had struggled a lot to fall asleep and he didn't manage to rest but a few hours.

 _"As if I could ever do something that might hurt you…"_

That sentence had kept repeating itself in his head the whole night. He had said it the previous evening giving spontaneously voice to his thoughts, but then those very words had come back tormenting him.

They had spent together less time than he would have wanted to, even so Arslan felt like he could consider Étoile one of the most important people in his life. The crossing of their roads had always coincided with the fundamental milestones of the path that made the naïve and shy prince he was, a strong and valiant king. Seeing the young lusitanian after so long had awakened an overwhelming joy and excitement in the sovereign's spirit. Étoile had been in the Palace for just over two days, and yet having her by his side and being able to talk to her at any time seemed something natural and essential to him. The initial euphoria, however, was slowly fading, leaving in its place a sense of surprise and discomfort at the same time. Something, in those four years, had irremediably changed. Étoile had changed. The gentleness in her manners, the willingness with which she opened her mind to new ideas, the tendency to confront with different points of view… if it weren't for the ardor that illuminated her eyes, for the decision that marked her voice, for the confidence in her gestures, he would have thought he was in front of a different person. Her character had improved in all the aspects it could improve and Arslan wanted, above all, to show her how hard he had worked to reduce those flaws that stained his gentle and noble spirit. The sovereign was enraptured by the new Étoile, and yet he silently thanked the gods for having let unchanged that ardor, that strength and that confidence that guided the young commander's every action. Those were the traits that fascinated him and that he benevolently envied her. He was constantly working hard to better himself and he saw in her those features that he dearly wanted to make his.

Arslan closed his eyes and Étoile's image popped into his mind, lightened by the sunset light in the meeting room, smiling and proud of the uniform she was wearing. That sharp and confident gaze of hers… it was one of the things he _loved_ most about her.

A gust of wind ruffled his silver hair and Arslan stirred. That simple acknowledgment had unsettled him. Without realizing it, he had moved the first, involuntary, small step towards the awareness that maybe Étoile wasn't just the other point of view he had to reckon with, the lusitanian ally who had accompanied him in the reconquering of his kingdom.

Arslan came off the parapet and sighed. He had gone out in the fresh air to find serenity and order his thoughts, but his mind was even more confused and crowded than before.

A hiss broke the air and Azrael flew over the Palace opening his large grey wings wide. The king followed him with his eyes, smiling softly.

* * *

Étoile had forced her men out of the comfort of their beds as soon as the first sunray touched the earth. She ordered them to put on their uniform and take their swords to start the training earlier, in order to use the last blows of the nice night breeze. Furthermore, according to the young lusitanian, some physical activity on an empty stomach would have improved their performance. Thibaut and Yanis obeyed grunting and even Kostàs couldn't held back an annoyed yawn. Once in a small square over which looked out two overlapping sequences of columns, the commander had challenged them one by one, defeating all three of them incredibly fast. Malakai watched giggling as Étoile scolded the young knights, who were sitting on the ground sulky and arms crossed.

Étoile shook her shoulders and snorted annoyed. Then she turned towards Malakai pointing her sword against him. The knight composed himself, pulled out his blade and assumed his combat stance, ready to face his training session. Étoile squinted to concentrate better, but her attention was stolen by a small cortege suddenly crossing the corridor beyond the upper sequence of columns. She lifted her gaze and saw Arslan leading the small group, with an unfolded scroll in his hands, while discussing something with his counselors.

He was smiling and his face was lively, slightly marked by light dark circles under his eyes. He answered politely any question he was asked, reassuring with a gesture of his hand the most skeptical ones.

Étoile smiled unwittingly. If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she would have found it difficult to believe the change that Arslan had gone through in those years. He was a young man now, a king willing to do everything possible to help his people. He was always attentive to the weakest ones' needs, happy to stay among his people, skillful administrator. Those few days she had spent at the Palace were enough to see how much he had grew up: he discussed politics with men who were a lot wiser than him and he wasn't ashamed to ask for advice if a subject was unknown to him or if he felt unsure. The qualities he had shown as a boy had amplified.

The smile on Étoile's lips faded away. All of this didn't change the fact that, after all, he was still a heathen. And yet, he was proud, worthy, altruist. He embodied perfectly the model of knight she had always aimed for and it was that ideal perfection of his one of the things she _liked_ the most about him.

Étoile felt a strange sensation in her chest, as if a pin had pierced her reaching her heart. She lowered her eyes and took a deep breath. Suddenly, she felt agitated, torn between two opposite and equally strong forces.

«Commander?»

Étoile swallowed and closed her eyes to find her concentration again.

«Commander, I'm ready. Is everything alright?», Malakai asked her raising an eyebrow. The feeling that oppressed her chest melted as fast as it had appeared and Étoile nodded vigorously. She waited a few seconds then she attacked under the dozing eyes of her men.

Arslan reached the end of the corridor followed by the men of Court, unaware of anything.

* * *

The morning passed without unusual events and in the afternoon all the employees in the Palace were allowed a couple of hours to rest.

A nice silence had fallen upon the rooms and the corridors, interrupted from time to time by the birds' chirping or by the neigh of the horses closed in the stables.

Arslan stood panting for a few seconds, then he threw himself against the straw puppet in front of him once again. A sharp cutting blow and he ripped off the swollen sack that served as head. He delivered two other well executed blows and the dummy lost both his arms. The maneuver had been successful, yet the king wasn't satisfied with his work. He distanced himself from the puppet and retried more slowly the same moves, to understand what he was getting wrong.

He had had a light and quick lunch, then he had wanted to be left alone. He walked in the inner garden, struggling to find a solution to the city's problems, but all that effort was making his head explode. So, he thought that distracting himself by training his swordsmanship would have helped him to clear his mind and to concentrate better later.

He repeated the maneuver again and threw himself against the straw puppet. He pierced it from side to side making some yellowish, long strings stick out from the hole. Arslan withdrew the sword and rubbed a hand over his sweaty forehead. He headed towards a rocky counter on which were some clean clothes, a pitcher of water and a silver goblet, when suddenly he heard a slow applause coming from his right. He turned abruptly and saw Étoile beyond the marble parapet that separated the small square from the inner corridor. The girl smiled lofty and headed towards him continuing to clap her hands slowly.

«Congratulations!», she started jeering. «You've really improved!»

Arslan shook his head smiling. He picked up the goblet, poured some fresh water and lifted it to his lips. Étoile quit clapping and stopped a few steps away to look a t him. His hair was down and he was wearing a fair, sleeveless tunic that sweat had stuck on his chest and back. Arslan grabbed a cloth from the counter and rubbed it on his face to dry the drops that trickled from his temples.

«What are you doing here?», he asked the young woman turning towards her.

«I was taking a walk», she replied. Then she smirked. «I complimented you earlier, aren't you going to thank me?», she said pretending to feel offended.

«With that tone?», the king asked frowning jokingly. «It seemed a mockery to me…». Étoile lifted a hand to her chest to emphasize even more her fake resentment.

«No, no! I was serious», the young woman defended herself. «I mean, clearly there are still visible flaws in your abilities as a warrior, but considering that only a few years ago you believed a _hoe_ was a weapon…». Arslan laughed and put the cloth on the board again.

«I had good reasons not to use my sword, Commander!», the young sovereign retorted, recalling immediately the event Étoile was referring to. At that time he was only a prince, furthermore a fugitive, but nor even then he had backed away facing the possibility to help a defenseless girl and her poor father. «Anyway, I have to admit I wasn't a very valiant warrior back then. But, as you said yourself, I've really improved…», he said getting closer to the girl, still holding the weapon in his hand. Étoile closed her eyes shaking her head and was about to leave.

«No matter how much better you are, you wouldn't stand a chance against me…»

The lusitanian didn't get to finish the sentence before Arslan's sword brushed against her neck.

«Do you want to bet?»

The young woman's lips bent into a smirk. It took her an instant to pull her own sword out the scabbard and turn around to make it clash against the sovereign's. They stood there, motionless, looking into each other's eyes for a few seconds. There wasn't embarrassment in their gazes, just a strong determination and in the spark the enlightened Étoile's amber eyes, the king understood that the young woman had accepted his challenge. And she had no intention to lose.

Arslan moved backwards to pounce forcefully on the lusitanian again. The girl responded with equal impulse and the two engaged a no-holds-barred battle. The noisy clashing of the two blades got soon a rhythm going that marked the steps and movements of the two. Both of them seemed to be able to foresee the opponent's moves so that neither of them managed to get the better of the other. Their maneuvers were almost synchronous and the precision of their blows made that entanglement of weapons and bodies seem more like a dance than a fight.

Étoile had soon to admit that the bay had actually improved. His moves were precise and his blows flawless. He was fast and strong. He moved quickly balancing on his legs and no matter how hard she tried, surprising him with some new move was proving to be more difficult than expected.

Arslan knew he would have surprised her. He was aware of his limits, but he was also sure that now his abilities had reached an excellent level. However, Étoile was just as worthy. She was agile, fast, she snuck off between his legs to hit him on his back and wielded the sword as if it was a natural extension of her arm. Their bright eyes locked every time the fight placed them one in front of the other.

The blades crossed for the umpteenth time and the young king's gaze met the girl's one, but this time it slid along her neck, her shoulders, then on her chest, her waist and along her legs. Étoile wiggled out and attacked again strongly, but Arslan didn't respond with the same effectiveness anymore. All of a sudden he appeared clumsy and his blows lost strength. Rather than avoid or oppose the opponent's attacks, the sovereign seemed to focus his attention on Étoile's agile body. The king observed again how the girl moved around him and he realized for the first time that the young lusitanian wasn't hiding her womanhood anymore.

Arslan felt a certain embarrassment and mentally reprimanded himself for having thought such a thing. He tried to concentrate on the fight, but Étoile had noticed that the king's attention was wavering and she took advantage of it.

In less than a second Arslan found himself up against the wall, unarmed and with Étoile's sword at his neck. The young woman was staring at him straight into his eyes, her lips bent in a clear smile of victory. It took a few instants to Arslan to understand what had happened and the expression on his face went from surprised to really annoyed.

For a few seconds they stood motionless and panting, looking at each other.

«Rule number one», Étoile said softly. «Never underestimate your opponent». The young woman addressed a jeering smile to him, then she lowered her sword and turned her back on him to leave.

Arslan jumped at the chance.

He smiled ambiguously and rushed forward to grab Étoile's right wrist. He made her turn around pushing her on the counter of stone and pointing her own sword at her neck. The pitcher of water fell shattering and the goblet rolled, hit by the king's hand that pressed Étoile's arm against the surface to prevent her from moving.

The roles inverted and the young lusitanian snorted, annoyed by the prideful expression painted on Arslan's face.

«Rule number two», the young king whispered leaning over her. «Never lower your guard». Étoile grumbled again frowning and Arslan chuckled pleased. The chuckle, however, soon faded into silence.

The young man lowered his gaze on the girl's face. They had never been so close. Étoile had surely noticed too, since she didn't seem upset like a few seconds earlier. She could feel the warmth of Arslan's body on her and a light blush colored her cheeks. She would have wanted to wiggle out and avoid that embarrassment, but for some reason she didn't know how to explain she couldn't stop getting lost into the young king's eyes. After a few seconds the embarrassment vanished too and Étoile felt overwhelmed by a pleasant sensation of calmness and she almost didn't feel the coldness of the stone of the counter anymore.

Arslan slowly moved the sword away from her neck but didn't loosen his grip on the young woman. He feared that if he had done it, she would have left and for some strange reason, he felt that was the last thing he wanted. He looked at her intensely and he was surprised to notice some details of her face he had never seen: the long and curved black eyelashes that crowned her amber eyes, her thin nose, her rosy skin, her perfect lips. That feeling that just earlier, during the fight, had costed him the victory, seized him again, but this time he didn't try to send it away.

Not even they ever knew for how long they stayed in that position, motionless, staring at each other. Nothing had managed to distract them from one another, not even the rushed steps that suddenly resounded in the corridor and then in the little square.

«Majesty! I found…».

Elam stopped after a few meters. His sharp voice, however, had been enough to reawaken the two that, still laying on the counter, turned abruptly towards the portico. They saw Elam with his arm raised, holding in his hand a couple of scrolls and on his face a confused expression, to say the least.

«If you are busy, I can come back later…», he said pointing at the corridor behind his back.

«No!», Étoile shouted getting up and forcing Arslan to do the same. «I was leaving…», she continued grabbing her sword from the king's hand and putting it back in the scabbard. Elam raised an eyebrow, skeptical, but he preferred not to inquire any deeper. The girl greeted them both trying to control her embarrassment and left the small square quickly. The young counselor followed her with his gaze, then he turned to the sovereign again.

Arslan leaned against the counter, supporting himself with a hand. He felt like he had just stepped out of a dream and for a moment he wavered bewildered.

«Is everything alright?», Elam asked more and more confused. The sovereign rubbed a hand over his face, then he smiled calmly.

«Yes, of course», he answered, but he was still feeling that strange and inexplicable sensation warming his chest. He turned towards Elam, who was standing there without batting an eyelid.

«What did you have to show me?»

* * *

Étoile ran until she reached her apartment's door. She rested a hand against the wall and leaned forward to catch her breath. She took a deep breath and let her back rest against the wall. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get out of her head Arslan's blue eyes, so intense and piercing they reached her heart. She rubbed a hand over her face, making it slide on her neck, where Arslan had pointed the sword. She closed her eyes, sighing. She thought she could still feeling the warmth of his body, the scent of his hair, and she couldn't help but image what could have happened if Elam hadn't shown up so suddenly.

When she opened her eyes, Étoile found Kostàs right in front of her, looking confused and with a raised eyebrow. The girl came off the wall immediately and rubbed her hands over her tunic to look led shaken. She knew all too well her face was burning so she prayed her young subordinate wouldn't pay too much attention.

«Is everything alright, Commander?», Kostàs asked instead.

«Yes!», Étoile answered a bit too impetuously. »Did something happen?», she asked while her breath gradually went back to normal and the blush on her face faded.

«No. I just wanted to… talk to you», the young knight said showing a certain nervousness.

«Alright. Go ahead…», Étoile agreed looking distractedly around.

«I wanted to apologize for what happened the other night. I was really dishonorable. I lost control, but I swear it won't happen again! This is a promise!». Kostàs spoke just like his heart suggested him, holding his breath. Étoile looked at him and had the impression that that sudden river of words had cos a lot to the poor knight, so much he was blushing.

«No problem. It wasn't your fault», Étoile told him, smiling to calm him. However, she got the opposite result and the knight blushed even more.

«I am serious, don't worry…», the young lusitanian repeated. «Anything else?». Kostàs nodded.

«Yes. I … I wanted to thank you. I was the laughing stock of the city, but you allowed me to show my worth, and my family will find her honor again. I'm immensely grateful!», he exclaimed bowing his head more to hide his purple face than to show respect. Étoile raised her hands to shield herself.

«No need to say that! I'm happy to help, when I can. Don't worry, really», she told him gently. Then she grabbed her apartment door's handle and was about to enter greeting Kostàs with her hand.

«No, wait!», the young man exclaimed raising his face. Étoile stopped and turned towards him.

«I…I …». The commander was looking at him waiting for him to finally say something, but Kostàs couldn't find enough breath and courage to give voice to his thoughts.

«Nothing», he sighed eventually. He raised a hand to greet her and rushed through the corridor. Étoile watched as he turned the corner, then she retired in her rooms.

* * *

Arslan stared sighing at the pile of scrolls. Elam had crossed the entire palace twice before succeeding in gathering all of them on the king's fair wooden desk. The young counselor started unrolling hem one by one, handing them to the sovereign, who, having dipped the quill in the inkwell, placed elegantly his signature on the documents.

Authorizations for banquets, special openings of temples, rules for citizens… all events Arslan had to express agreement on so that the parsian Pantheon Celebration could be held. The annual recurring event involved all the inhabitants of the kingdom, who flowed in great numbers into the capital to celebrate in one day all the gods they usually prayed. It was a most important occurrence, that Arslan had wanted to establish soon after his coronation to make it an element of cohesiveness for all his subjects.

In the crisp, evening air the citizens had already started hanging lanterns and garlands on their houses' doors, and the priest and priestess in the temples were pronouncing the last invocations so that the gods gave peace and serenity to their faithful followers.

Arslan dipped the quill into the inkwell and signed the umpteenth document. Elam turned to grab another one from the desk.

«What do you think of Étoile?»

Elam turned around abruptly dropping the scroll that rolled until it stopped against one of the legs of the ebony wardrobe next to desk.

Arslan was looking at him straight into his eyes, with the quill still in his hand, biting imperceptibly his lower lip.

«Majesty?», the young man asked raising an eyebrow and bending to pick up the scroll. «What do you mean?». Arslan put the quill on the table, leaning against the armchair's backrest. He spent a few instants looking at the ring made of gold and ruby he was wearing on his left hand. Elam was waiting quietly.

«I mean… she's really changed…», the king said starting playing with the jewel's stone.

«Without doubt!», Elam agreed immediately recalling the rude and bad-tempered manners that characterized the girl when she was first welcomed in their army.

«The fact is…», the king resumed, «I wasn't expecting to see her again so suddenly and such… different. She's cheerful, polite, respectful, but also strong, self-confident, determined. I can't believe we've been apart for so long. I mean, it's amazing to have her here. Seeing how much she worked to reach her goals incites me to work harder myself. For some reason, I'm always afraid to say or do something that could disappoint her…», the young sovereign confessed hinting a smile. Elam inspected his face to try to understand what Arslan was hiding under those words. He knew his king all too well not to realize that that unusually awkward behavior of his was concealing a lot more. Arslan stared for a few seconds at the quill abandoned on the desk, then he spoke again.

«The truth is… Étoile fascinates me. Every time I talk to her, every time I look at her, I discover something new of her character, of her personality and since she came back I … I can't stop thinking about her».

«Majesty!», Elam exclaimed, finally understanding what the sovereign was about to say. Arslan stopped talking and lifted his gaze on the young counselor's face. «Forgive me, but I don't consider myself suitable for receiving such thoughts. I'm afraid I won't be able to support you in any way…», he said lowering his voice. Arslan smiled sadly resting his elbows on the desk.

«Sorry», he sighed. «You have so many concerns to take care of, I shouldn't bother you with my personal matters…». Elam stared for a few seconds at the sovereign's disconsolate and thoughtful expression. It pained him to see him in such a state, but at the same time he had no idea how to help him in a situation like that. It wasn't a rational matter, let alone an objective one. It was about feelings, a subject towards which Elam felt clumsy and inexperienced. He stood quietly for a few instants, then his face lightened up. Maybe he could still have given an advice to the young sovereign.

«Anyway,… there's still something I feel I can tell you: follow your heart, as you always have. I'm sure you'll manage to find the answers you're looking for», Elam said smiling confident. Arslan smiled back.

«Thank you, Elam». They spent a few moments in silence. «The documents that need to be signed are almost over. I can continue on my own. Feel free to go and rest», the king said grabbing the quill again. Elam didn't insist and after a wide bow he excited the office thanking the sovereign.

Arslan finished signing the scrolls, then he put down the quill and stood up to stretch his legs. He got closer to the window and followed with his gaze the movements of the sentinels that guarded the walls. The moon was shining, spreading in the dark sky her faint silver rays.

He sat back on his armchair, running a hand through his hair. What was he supposed to do? An awfully great confusion ruled his mind. He didn't know how to explain those unknown feelings that burdened his chest. He was agitated and the sudden thought that Étoile would leave in a few days made a shiver run down his spine.

He absolutely had to find the way to spend more time with her. To him, it was the only solution suitable for unraveling the tangle of feelings and sensations that had woven around his heart. But how could he dovetail all his duties with that new necessity of his?

Arslan lowered his head and thought for a few moments. Then his face lightened up.

He grabbed a blank scroll and wrote down a few sentences with the quill. He signed it and called for a dispatch rider. He gave the message to the man who appeared at the door, ordering him to read its content to all the recipients specified on the back of the scroll. The dispatch rider nodded and disappeared quickly in the corridor.

Arslan sat back at his desk smiling pleased. A few minutes later the king heard someone knocking at the door. The young sovereign gave permission to enter. The door opened wide and on the other side appeared Lord Cyrus, with his tunic crumpled and out of breath: he had rushed into Arslan's office as soon as he heard the message.

«A hunting trip, Sire?»

* * *

 **A/N: in the final part of the chapter I use the word " _Pantheon_ ". The word's origin is ancient Greek and literally it means "all-gods"**

 **Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Bye!:)**

 **\- Kiara**


	6. Dawn

**A/N: Arslan's starting to understand his confused feelings. How will he react?**

 **Chapter Six: Dawn**

* * *

«We can stop here!»

Arslan tugged at his horse's reins and the others did the same. Daryun got slowly closer to the king's stallion, Cyrus and the four noblemen accompanying him stayed respectfully behind the sovereign, while Farangis positioned herself on the limit of the small level ground at which the knights had stopped. From there she could clearly see the four lusitanian soldiers, led by Étoile, arrange themselves in a semi-circle behind the parsian noblemen. The guests exchanged a questioning look, but no one spoke.

The y had had to leave the nice warmth of their beds even before the sun rose, and this time not by order of their commander, but of the king himself. Arslan had wanted to invite them to a lion hunt, "to show them one of the most ancient parsian traditions", a dispatch rider had told them the previous evening.

Malakai did his best to look as rested and awake as possible, and so did Kostàs. Yanis and Thibaut, however, had some more difficulties. During the entire ride they had done nothing but yawn and sigh, wondering so much bound to the parsian aristocratic tradition.

Cyrus stared at them out of the corner of his eye and saw Yanis bending his head, defeated by his sleepiness. The noble counselor mumbled imperceptibly. Why would the king involve those savage lusitanians in a such solemn event?

* * *

\- _The previous evening_ -

 _Cyrus had rushed to the king as soon as he had received the message from the dispatch rider. He had crossed running half the Palace, showing up in front of the sovereign with crumple clothes and twisted headgear. Arslan, however, didn't seem to take it into consideration._

 _«A hunting trip, Sire?»_

 _Arslan smiled. «Exactly. A hunting trip», the young man repeated with conviction._

 _«But Majesty… I don't understand. Why so suddenly? The Pantheon Celebrations are starting tomorrow and…»_

 _Cyrus raved moving some steps towards the fair wooden desk._

 _«I just thought it would have been the right moment to resume an ancient tradition of ours. Also, it's the perfect opportunity to show our lusitanian guests some aspects of our culture», Arslan exclaimed. Cyrus' face contracted in a grimace._

 _«The lusitanians ?», he asked annoyed._

 _«Yes», the king answered getting up. «Is there a problem?»_

 _The parsian nobleman didn't move and tried to contain his nerves._

 _«A hunting trip arranged by the king for the members of the Court is highly solemn, ritualistic I would say. It is not an event anyone can take part in…»_

 _«I'm not granting anyone this privilege; Commander Étoile is one of the few people I know I can blindly trust, and I'm sure her men deserve the same faith», the young sovereign said, visibly annoyed by the suspicion with which the counselor kept treating the lusitanian knights._

 _«I didn't mean to insinuate anything, Majesty. Forgive my so little… confident behavior», Cyrus said hinting a bow._

 _The conversation didn't last any longer. Cyrus had left the office retiring in his rooms and leaving the young sovereign alone with his thoughts._

* * *

The sunrays touched gently the earth. The illuminated dewdrops seemed pearls among the emerald green blades of grass. The light reached the clearing filtered by the tree's fronds which surrounded it. The plain opened among the high grounds north of Ecbatana, not far from the mountainous crests that the dawn was turning grey and blue.

Arslan turned towards the other knights, smiling. He was wearing a leather armor that protected his chest and shoulders. It perfectly suited his body, marking his muscles. The neckline was strengthened by darker leather bands, while on his abdomen was embroidered an eight-pointed star, of a paler color. On his chest other marquetry decorated the armor, spreading from the point where the bands protecting his shoulders joined in the middle of his collarbone. On his bare arms fell elegantly a dark cloak with embroidered rims, fastened by a buckle on his left shoulder. From the belt that encircled his hips hung the shining sword. The king took care to recover every traditional aspect of the events, clothing included.

Even the other participants, both parsians and lusitanians, wore traditional clothes: a dark leather armor decorated by a belt that from their right shoulder reached their left hip, dark pants and capes each one of a different color, fastened by silver cloak pins on their left shoulder. Daryun had chosen a black cloak and armor, as usual, while Farangis was wearing her habitual clothes.

Étoile stood out among all the others. A dark brown leather corset wrapped her bust, marking her thin waist and leaving her arms exposed. A thicker leather band crossed it from her right shoulder to her left hip, where it attached to a belt from which hung a short sword. She was wearing tanned leather boots and fair pants, while on her shoulders was fastened a deep blue cloak, under which, on her hips, could be glimpsed a quiver and a bow. On the rosy skin exposed by the neckline stood out the wooden cross of the Faith of Yaldabaoth from which the young lusitanian never got separated. Her long blonde hair fell on her shoulder tied in a braid.

Arslan stared at her for a few seconds, totally enchanted. He was more and more certain the involving Étoile and her men had been a wonderful idea.

The king unsheathed his sword and gave the silent signal to start the hunt. The knights started moving slowly, in small groups, passing through the trees and shrubs that surrounded the plain. Arslan had reached the northern limit of the ground, Daryun and Farangis had stopped a few dozen meters away. The parsian noblemen were in the middle, in a spot protected by vegetation, while Étoile and her men dispersed in the surrounding area. An hour passed and nothing happened. the sunrays were becoming thicker and brighter. Cyrus spurred his horse and was soon by the king's side.

«Majesty, I'm afraid this is not the right day to…». A threatening roar broke the air. The horses neighed terrified and the knights looked around worried, unsheathed their weapons. Étoile instinctively brought a hand to her bow. Farangis and Daryun got closer to the king by a few meters.

«What was that?», Yanis asked suddenly awake and alert. A rustled shook the leaves of a short line of shrubs to the sovereign's right. Another strong roar and an Asian lion jumped forward giving the impression of coming out of nowhere. The animal placed himself between Cyrus and Arslan. He headed slowly towards the king, showing threatening the sharp fangs and shaking his thick black mane.

In less than a second Daryun launched himself on the attack followed by Farangis, but a lioness with short, fair fur stood in their way, making their horses rear. The parsian noblemen rushed to protect Lord Cyrus, while the lusitanian knights reached Étoile.

«Majesty!», the Knight in Black yelled trying to hold off the lioness with his spear.

Arslan didn't panic. Unsheathed his sword, he was trying to intimidate the anima, using the reflection of the sunrays to dazzle it.

Finally with Farangis' help Daryun managed to prevail over the lioness and rushed at full gallop towards the sovereign. However, after a few meters another lioness stepped on his way, roaring more threatening than the first one.

«Damn it!», the man shouted trying to glimpse Arslan among the short trees. The young king, pushed by the lion, was moving backwards towards a small grove that limited the plain on its northern side. Suddenly he found himself in the shadow, protected from light by a bare rock protrusion. He couldn't count on the reflecting properties of his sword and he understood there was no way to avoid a straight-fight.

The lion jumped forward and Arslan managed to dodge it tugging gat his horse's bridles. He moved by a few meters chased by the lion that was trying to bite his steed's paws. The young man moved backwards but was forced to stop against a rocky wall covered by vegetation.

The lion came forward roaring. There was no way out. The animal was about to jump against the young man, but a few seconds earlier a spear plunged unto the ground between its paws. Malakai appeared from behind a tree whirling his sword in mid-air. Kostàs watched his back. They managed to distance the lion from the king, who finally could separate from the rocky wall. All three of them pointed their swords against the beast, ready to attack, but a cry made them turn around abruptly.

Another lioness had appeared from the thick vegetation placing herself between Étoile and her men. The girl had taken up the bow and nocked an arrow, having the animal in her sights.

«Commander!», Kostàs shouted, ready to reach the young woman. Arslan, however, was faster and spurring his horse he rushed towards the young lusitanian. Malakai yanked Kostàs moving him before the lion they were facing could hurt him with its paw.

«Be careful boy! You don't want to get yourself killed, do you?», the knight reprimanded him. Kostàs unwillingly turned his attention back to the wild animal.

Arslan rode as fast as possible through the trees that appeared here and there in the plain. His ears heard nothing but the lioness' threatening roars, his eyes saw nothing but Étoile in danger. His heart was beating insanely and the few seconds that he needed to reach the girl seemed an eternity.

Étoile shot the arrow, but the lioness dodged it with an agile jump, getting even closer. The young woman immediately nocked another arrow and glanced at Thibaut and Yanis: both were engaged by a forth lioness that had attacked them in the back.

That moment of distraction was enough and Étoile didn't realize the beast was already a few steps from her, ready to maul her.

«Étoile!»

Arslan threw himself against the ferocious animal making it tumble for a few meters. In an instant he was by the young lusitanian's side.

«Étoile, are you alright?», he asked looking at her to make sure she hasn't wounded.

«It's a herd!», she yelled without answering him and pointing the arrow to the lioness who was getting up.

Meanwhile Daryun had managed to win the second lioness and was looking around in search of the sovereign, but the vegetation prevented him from seeing.

Kostàs had managed to hurt the lion and Malakai was keeping it in his sights. Yanis and Thibaut were trying to push the forth lioness against a rocky peak.

Étoile shot and the arrow wounded the beast' s hip. The animal whined and withdrew. The young lusitanian got ready to shout again, but the lioness disappeared into the shrubs with a sudden jump.

«Damn it!», Étoile mumbled riding in pursuit. Arslan followed her immediately.

«Wait Étoile!», the girl didn't seem to stop, actually, she sped up not to lose eye contact with the lioness.

They rode through trees and shrubs, lifting from time to time dust clouds, leaping over fallen trunks and passing over puddles of stagnant water that splashed them up to their faces. They managed to follow the animal for a long stretch, but when vegetation became thicker, the beast managed to hide under the shrubs and continued its run protected by leaves and branches. The two kept riding, led by the swish of the animal on the run, until, suddenly, a vast expanse of grass appeared in front of their eyes, illuminated by the few sunrays that managed to overcome the mountains' light blue peaks and slide into the valley.

They stopped. The lioness had vanished and not even the swishes of the leaves moved at its passage could be heard. A faint mist hovered around the vast meadow that expanded in front of them and faded gradually towards the uplands. A long silver strip went down the highest peak disappearing beyond the trees: probably a water stream.

«We lost it…», Étoile commented with a certain intolerance putting back the bow and the arrows.

«So it seems…», Arslan agreed sheathing his sword. The young woman glanced at him and sighed.

«Well, it wouldn't have happened if you weren't so slow…».

Arslan looked at her astonished.

«Me? Slow? It's the opposite maybe…», he defended himself. Étoile chuckled jeering, staring straight ahead. A few instants passed and neither of them opened their mouths. A light breeze brushed the plain and reached the two young ones ruffling their hair.

Arslan saw the young woman grasp her horse's bridles and turn towards him. She stared into his eyes for a few instants. Arslan looked at her with equal intensity, without really understanding what the girl was about to do.

«If you really are not the slow one…», the commander said tugging at the reins. «Show me…»

Étoile rushed to the valley, riding incredibly fast towards the uplands that crowned the meadow in front of them. For a moment Arslan felt lost, then he understood and spurring his horse he followed the young lusitanian.

The breeze became stronger descending in the valley and incited Étoile to go even faster. In a few seconds Arslan was by her side. The cloaks twirled in the air like bog wings and the wind ruffled their hair.

Étoile sensed a shiver run down her spine. The view, the speed, the wind, everything contributes to give her a feeling of absolute freedom and for a moment she believed she could fly. The regular movements of the ride loosened the ribbon that kept her hair tired. Her long blonde locks soared in the air, free to twirl according to the breeze's caprices. Étoile closed her eyes and spurred again her horse: she had never felt so alive.

Arslan was enchanted. Totally unconcerned about the challenge, he slowed down just to look at her. He couldn't take his eyes off her. He had never seen her so uninhibited letting herself being carried by the wind with such spontaneity.

They unconsciously reached the end of the plain and crossed a small thicket. The sunrays illuminated the undergrowth filtered by the fronds. It was dark and probably riding at full gallop in that mess of shrubs wasn't the wiser decision. Étoile however didn't slow down and continued her crazy running guided by her instinct and by the thrill of the moment. Arslan didn't care where she would have led them: he was willing to follow her anywhere.

They exited the thicket and found themselves on a little hill that lowered gently towards a small lake exactly at the base of the first mountains that shaped a big range that extended as far as one could see.

Étoile stopped on the top of the hill. She waited for a few seconds, then she climbed down slowly. The pool of water was surrounded by trees and rocks, and was filled by the silver stream that descended from the mountain in small waterfalls. The young lusitanian reached one of the nearest trees. Arslan followed her without speaking. Étoile dismounted her horse and tied it to the tree by its bridles. She undid her cloak in one quick move, almost impatient, and she headed towards the small lake. Arslan tied his horse quickly and reached her running.

The girl let the water brush her boots up to her knees. She moved her hair to her shoulder, closed her eyes and used her hands as a bowl to refresh her face. She stretched, opened her eyes again and breathed deeply, staring right in front of her, where the sun was starting to peak out from behind the mountains.

Arslan was by her side, motionless, looking at her. Her hair illuminated by the sun seemed golden, her amber eyes shone like precious stones. Her rosy skin, her cheeks still reddened from the frantic riding, her bare arms, the water drops that slipped from the face to her neck, touching the wooden pendant and the leather corset's rim. Wrapped by the warm morning light she seemed a goddess and even of he had wanted to find a flaw, he wouldn't have been able to.

She was beautiful.

His heart didn't slow its beating and Arslan understood there was no way out. The chaos that ruled his mind became absolute calmness and the young king admitted to himself that Étoile wasn't an ally. She wasn't the other point of view. She wasn't a friend.

Étoile was much, much more.

The girl smiled turning towards him, while her gasping breath slowly went back to normal. Arslan's blue eyes seemed as deep as the ocean and for a moment she thought she was lost in them. The smile on her lips faded slowly. She felt his gaze on her skin, intense and at the same time light as a caress. She allowed herself to get cuddled, regardless of wondering whether it was right or wrong. She liked it, and for the moment this was enough. She liked being looked at in that way. She liked being look at in that way by _him_. And this could only led her to one conclusion: Arslan fascinated her, he attracted her and awakened feelings that shook her soul. How much and in what way, she couldn't tell.

* * *

The king sat distractedly on his throne, Adel's voice reached him feebly and the counselors sitting around the great map of the kingdom of Pars seemed blurred figures that could barely be distinguished from the walls. Elam was at a desk next to the throne and quickly noted down a few words for each speech pronounced by the counselors. Daryun was standing on the other side of the room and looked at the sovereign with concern.

Arslan usually paid attention to every legislative Council's meeting, however the sovereign didn't seem interested in listening to the parsian noblemen's proposal at all. His very posture showed clearly that young man would have preferred to be elsewhere: he was holding listlessly his head with an arm and with one leg crossed over the other, staring blankly at the map unfolded in front of his eyes.

Daryun couldn't understand such behavior. The king had been acting strangely since they had returned from the hunting. They had managed to get better of the herd and they had come back all safe and sound, however, something was unsettling the sovereign. Daryun could clearly see it: his eyes were shining with a different light.

Adel ended his speech and went back to sit at his place. Everyone's eyes focused on the king. The young sovereign didn't move.

«Majesty», Elam shook him. Arslan raised his gaze and only then he seemed to notice he was in the middle of an official meeting with the Council's members. He sat better on the throne and cleared his voice. He glanced at Daryun, the looked at the parsian noblemen's faces, one by one. In their eyes he could clearly read the trepidation with which they were waiting for his speech. The king, however, didn't know what to say. To be sincere, he had no idea what had been said until then.

The events happened a few hours earlier had completely overwhelmed him and everything he could think of was Étoile wrapped in the dawn's sunlight. Anyway, the young king didn't really try that hard to wipe out the image. However, he realized his attention in a such important meeting was more than needed.

He stood up and moved some steps in front of the map, holding his chin, looking thoughtful. He reflected for few instants, then his face lighted up. Here's what he could say.

«I think I know how to solve our problem, at least for the time being», he exclaimed smiling, Elam and Daryun looked at each other skeptically; before a Council meeting the sovereign used to inform them of the proposals he wanted to promote but this time he hadn't spoken with neither of them.

«We'll set a limit to the extension of land each one can own. This way nobody will ever be able to obtain fields and lands beyond measure».

Silence fell upon the room. The counselors looked at each other for a few seconds.

«What do you think of it? Does someone want to intervene?», the sovereign asked. Adel raised his arm and Arslan encouraged him to speak.

«I think it's a wonderful idea, Majesty!», the young counselor began enthusiastic. Other members nodded pleased too. Cyrus barely bent his lips. The apparent calmness of his face was hiding such annoyance he had to clench his fists to control himself. All of this opposed hopelessly his plans.

«As always, excellent proposal, Your Majesty», a man with a thick grey beard commented.

«Thank you. Anyway, the credit is not only mine», Arslan confessed smiling. The counselors looked at each other confused. Elam stopped writing and stared at the sovereign.

«The idea was suggested by Commander Étoile», the young man explained. The smile on the counselors' faces faded instantly. A soft buzz filled the room and Cyrus had to appeal to his whole self-control not to burst out in anger.

Arslan immediately sensed the sudden change in the men's attitude and asked for explanation. Some minutes passed and no one dared to speak. The sovereign then demanded that someone answered his question. A man with thick black eyebrows slowly raised his arm.

«Your Majesty, I'm sure you're aware Commander Étoile is… _lusitanian_ », he said softly.

Arslan furrowed his brow.

«Of course», he answered.

«We're talking about matters strictly bound to Pars, which are shareable only with a limited part of the Court, that is gathered in this Council», another one said. «An external interference is inappropriate».

«I agree», a robust man sitting at Adel's right dared to say. «Letting ourselves be advised by someone else… a lusitanian what's more…»

«Therefore the goodness of a proposal must be evaluated according to the proposer?», the king interrupted him abruptly, visibly annoyed. «You had judged the measure positively; the fact that a lusitanian girl suggested it does by any chance change its substance?»

The counselors fell silent and lowered their gazes. Elam exchanged a worry glance with Daryun. Arslan clenched his fists and breath deeply. He felt like a fire was burning inside his chest. That clear criticism against Étoile and her origins had annoyed him beyond measure and he had to concentrate to calm down.

The room was full of tension and the young sovereign understood there was no way to continue the meeting serenely, so he ended it, whishing his men a good day. He sat on his throne and waited silently for all the counselors to leave the room.

A few minutes later Arslan and Daryun were alone. Elam had left to add to the Palace's the notes of the meeting.

The Black Knight got closer to the throne, looking worried at the king.

«I don't understand», the young sovereign said all of a sudden. «Why such diffidence?»

The two were wrapped by a heavy and oppressive silence that only a few seconds later was shattered by Daryun's words.

«I do understand».

Arslan focused his blue eyes on Daryun's strict face. The parsian general sensed in the king's gaze a mix of wonder and disappointment.

«I mean», he hurried to explain. «I can understand the resistance of some members. That terrible war brought the kingdom to its knees. I think it's comprehensible that the memory of those events brings with it pain and distress. That's why the counselors are reluctant towards everything that reminds them of those horrible years…».

«But now it's over. Everything's over and we can't cling to the past. The future needs to be built with the actions we accomplish in the present…», the king retorted getting up.

«Your words are wise, Majesty», Daryun commented slowly lowering his head. Arslan sighed, then he smiled softly to the Black Knight.

«We'd better go now. The Pantheon Celebrations will start soon».

«Of course, Sire», Daryun agreed following him outside the room and along the corridor.

The Knight didn't go any deeper into the topic. He had seen the counselors' annoyed and skeptical glances and he knew all too well what they meant. The trust that the Royal Court had placed in king Arslan had been shaken for the first time.

* * *

 **A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please, don't be shy and let me know what you think of this story. It's really important to know what's good and what needs to be improved!**

 **Have a nice day!**

 **-Kiara**


	7. Moonlight

**A/N: I'm terribly sorry for my long absence. University barely gives me any free time and writing is becoming more and more difficult. This chapter has been written a few months ago, but I never had enough time to translate it. I worked hard and quickly, therefore there might be some mistakes. Please tell me if something doesn't feel right, both about the plot or the grammar.**

* * *

 **Chapter 7: Moonlight**

In the small underground room echoed insults and curses of all kinds. The guard watching the door didn't move but he seriously feared that if they carried on like that someone would find them.

Gathered around the small rocky altar the men expressed all their anger shaking their fists and stomping their feet. Cyrus was trying uselessly to keep order. He had thought that informing his men about King Arslan's initiative would have been a good idea, but seeing their reactions was making him doubt it.

«Setting a limit means prevent us from implementing our plan! We can't let this happen!», one of them shouted, and immediately all the others cried their disapproval.

«With this damn limit we will never be able to take what's rightfully ours! », someone else exclaimed.

«And how can we fix this? Surely we can't expose ourselves!», a man at Cyrus' right shouted. The parsian nobleman raised his hand and in a few seconds the voices that agitated the room calmed. The man cleared his voice.

«Undoubtedly, this is a problem», he said. «There's something interesting, however. When the noble counselors learnt about the young lusitanian woman's interference, they weren't enthusiastic about the purpose».

«Perfect!», exclaimed the man at his left. «Let's take advantage of it. Once we inform the whole Court… the discontent will spread and…»

«…the king will have no choice but back down!», a short man concluded from the bottom of the room.

Cyrus smiled meanly.

«What a wonderful idea», the nobleman agreed calling the guard standing next to the door with a gesture of his hand. He nodded and opened the lock. Five men, whose look was dark and mysterious, entered the small round room. They arranged around the stone altar and waited silently for Cyrus to introduce them to the other members of the group.

«These men are our friends», the counselor began. «They're allies we can trust. They'll help us to reach our goals. Infiltrating in every corner of the Court they will inform as many people as possible of the purposes of our young and easily influenced sovereign. Am I Right?»

The five men nodded and on their faces painted a disturbing smile.

«Long live Lord Cyrus!», one of them shouted, raising his fist in mid-air. The others imitated him, and a yell echoed in the Palace's basement.

* * *

It didn't take long for the lies circulated by Cyrus to infect the Court. From the gardens to the corridors, from the kitchens to the stables, the voices about the king's questionable behavior were on everyone's lips, thanks to the skillful scheming of Cyrus' underlings. During the few hours enough for all the Palace's functionaries to be, without them knowing, involved in the conspiracy, the first version of the events, created by Cyrus himself, had been naturally enriched with details suggested by the creativity of who thought it was right to give their own contribution to the situation.

First of all the plan was actualized in the kitchens: one of the five men hired by Cyrus managed to skillfully infiltrate in the rooms intended to serve the meals and, identified his first victim with a young servant, he told her how he learnt of the ambiguous behavior of their sovereign. The naïve girl believed every single word and she convinced herself that King Arslan was an easily influenced man.

Another one of Cyrus' subordinated took care to specify that the sovereign played favorites with Commander Étoile and her men. This news upset more than a little the grooms who were told.

Also, someone thought of worsening the situation speculating that the king wanted to defend the foreigners' interests, who constituted the lower class of Ecbatana's society. But what really fractured the faith in the young sovereign was the conclusion some functionaries in charge of the royal gardens came to. King Arslan had let himself be persuaded by Commander Étoile to help the foreigners living in the Capital, many of which were lusitanians, forgetting his duties to his own subjects.

Not even Cyrus had foreseen such turn of events and he had to admit he had underestimated the power rumors and false accusation can assume in specific circumstances. Pleased to know he was the creator of such emotional disarray, the noble counselor wandered along the Palace and watched the young servants confiding each other the last new about the young king.

* * *

Arslan sat on his throne rocking the wine goblet he was holding in his hand. The room was crowded. Someone chatted in small groups waiting for the servants to serve them something to drink, others, sitting or laying on precious, embroidered cushions, savored the delicacies the Court cook had prepared for the occasion.

The Pantheon Celebration always started on a full-moon night; that's why the first ceremony was called "Moonlight Festival". The celebration opened with a procession to the most important temple of the city and then continued with a sumptuous banquet at the Royal Palace.

Being invited was a sign of prestige and power, so all the participants took care of underline their value showing off with ease their wealth. Men wore their best garments, tied by golden belts and pins decorated with precious stones. Women were covered in sparkling jewelry, their hair gracefully tied up and their bodies wrapped with fine fabric.

Young women entered the room from time to time carrying trails full of exotic food and jugs filled with wine. The silver dishes shone illuminated by the light that hundreds of candles spread in the big hall. In the corner a group of five musicians cheered the dining companions with traditional parsian melodies.

The king kept staring absorbed at his wine goblet, indifferent to the splendor that surrounded him. Elam observed him silently from behind a thick red tent. Even the young boy had noticed that the sovereign was worried, but unlike Daryun, he believed he knew the reason. Once they had returned to the Palace after the hunting trip, the king's whole attention had been dedicated to Étoile. Elam knew something had happened while the two were separated from the rest of the group and he was sure it had something to do with the king's mood. The young counselor left his place in half light and reached the throne.

«Sure there is a lot of people! It seems everyone accepted the invitation». The king started. He turned and saw Elam's smiling face. Arslan nodded.

«Actually…», the green-eyed boy resumed, «not really everyone's here, am I right?»

Arslan stared at him surprised and a bit alarmed. Was his discomfort that obvious? From the look painted on his friend's face he understood that maybe he would have been able to fool the others, but not him. Arslan smiled.

«Seems so…», he commented simply, staring back at the room full of people. Elam got closer.

«I saw her at the stabled earlier…», he whispered making sure no one else heard him. Arslan stared at him again. «The Moon Celebration will start in about two hours…. Maybe you should go and get some air, Majesty…», the boy concluded casting a knowing look at the sovereign. The king smiled shaking his head. Not only Elam had understood everything, he knew his mood had to do with Étoile, but also he offered him the chance to reach her.

«Thank you, Elam», Arslan exclaimed getting up and handing him the goblet full of wine. The young counselor smiled. The king rested a hand on his shoulder, then he left the room unseen.

* * *

The full moon shone majestically in the sky. Everywhere they rested, her rays drew silver stripes illuminating the Palace's porches and squares. The echo of the party barely reached the stables, interrupted from time to time by the horse's neighs. An oil lamp hanging from one of the wooden beams that supported the roof spread s faint orange light in the large section reserved to the lusitanian guests' mounts.

Étoile immersed the brush in the water bucket at her feet. She moved behind her ear a hair lock that had slid over her eyes, dried the sweat that beaded her forehead with the shirt's sleeve and started to brush vigorously her horse's mane.

Arslan had invited her and her men to take part in the Pantheon Celebrations, even as spectators, but the Lusitanians had declined: in their eyes it still was a heathen feast. Malakai, Yanis, Thibaut and Kostàs retired exhausted in their rooms, the commander instead preferred to take care of her horse after the effort she had imposed on him that very morning at the hunting trip.

In truth, the lusitanian girl felt the need to be alone and order her feelings. The intense look Arslan had gave her impressed her so much that during the entire day she believed she could see his blue eyes in every single thing surrounding her. No one had had such an effect on her till then.

Suddenly the horse shook his head tickling Étoile with his long mane.

«What's wrong with you?», the girl exclaimed laughing. Just after, the stable's door opened creaking and the young woman blocked. She turned around and to her surprise she saw Arslan showing at the door. It took her a few seconds to make sure he really was in front of her and he wasn't just another hallucination.

The king, barely illuminated by the lantern's light, stayed motionless staring at her for a few seconds. Neither of them said a word so tension began to rise. Arslan understood that of no one spoke the situation would be more and more embarrassing, so he breathed in and found a way to start the conversation.

«Étoile, what are you doing?», he said eventually, regretting instantly having asked such a stupid question. Étoile, in fact, raised an eyebrow, perplexed.

«I'm currying my horse», she answered pointing at the brush she was holding in her hand.

«Yes! Of course!», Arslan stuttered chuckling embarrassed. «I mean, shouldn't you be resting?»

The young woman threw the brush in the bucket at her feet as she slightly bit her lip.

«Seems I can't relax…», she answered shrugging.

«I see…», the king commented lowering his eyes.

«Shouldn't you… be at the feast?», Étoile asked to break the silence that had fallen again upon the stable.

«Yes», the sovereign admitted smiling. «I just wanted to get some fresh air», he justified himself. Étoile nodded with little conviction. They stood motionless for a few seconds. Tension between them was palpable.

The situation unblocked when the king moved some steps towards the bar that held tidily the horses' saddles and bridles. He grabbed two of them and gave one to Étoile. The girl cast him a questioning look.

«I want to show you something», Arslan explained hastily while he saddled a white horse tied not far away.

«Now?», the young lusitanian asked surprised. «What about the Moonlight Festival?»

«We have time!», the king reassured her. Étoile seemed to settle for it and didn't ask anything else.

* * *

They rode through the city's roads, accompanied by the music that echoed at every crossing and by the fragrance of the sweets just taken out of the ovens for the Celebrations. The squares were filled with dancing people and more than once they had to slow down, impeded by the euphoric crowd. No one recognized the king who was wearing a white cloak to go unnoticed. In a short time they managed to reach an area of the capital that seemed excluded from the feast atmosphere. The streets were quiet and illuminated only by the cold moonlight. The pawing of the hoofs on the alleys' stabs of stone echoed among the short houses of bricks. Étoile followed Arslan silently, keeping from asking him where they were headed.

Arslan stopped at a crossroads and dismounted.

«Here we are», he said. He tied his horse to a pole on the side of the street, inviting Étoile to do the same. Around them erected two or tree-story buildings, a lot of which seemed abandoned. The girl looked at some of them from the foundations to the roofs: the windows had been barred with wooden planks, and the doors had been replaced with colorful drapes that fluttered slightly moved by the soft evening's breeze. The young woman turned around to look at the king, who had reached the threshold of one of the houses.

«Follow me», the boy said gently, moving the cloth that closed the door. Étoile nodded and reached him.

Crossed the doorstep, they found themselves in a big room with a rectangular wooden table in the middle. A drape, whose worn-out borders touched the packed dirt-floor, covered half of it. A short wooden piece of furniture laid against the right wall, while on the bottom one was a small window poorly closed by a couple of boards. Air was full of dust and the walls showed long blackish striped from top to bottom.

«This way», Arslan said, heading towards a flight of stairs. Étoile raised an eyebrow, more and more confused, but she followed him without saying anything. At the end of the flight of steps, the two found themselves on a landing that gave access to two rooms. Arslan entered the left one, followed by the young lusitanian.

Beyond the doorstep was a simple room. On the left side was a large bed, on which had been thrown an old dusty blanket. On the other side was a small piece of furniture visibly worm-eaten and next to it, in the middle of the wall, a wide window closed with two wooden planks. Arslan got closer, grabbed the two tight boards and tugged forcefully at them until he managed to tear them away from the wall. Beyond the now free window, extended the city. The buildings, that the moon colored of a cold blue, set one on the other, gathering around the Palace, brightly lit by the torches. It shone like a gem.

Étoile got closer to the king.

«The view is spectacular…», the girl commented.

«Yeah…», the sovereign said smiling. Étoile stared at him for a few seconds, then she frowned annoyed.

«Alright, cut it out», she reprimanded him. Arslan turned towards her and looked at her surprised. «You're acting more oddly than usual… and mysteriously. That's not like you. What's wrong?», she asked him frankly. The sovereign chuckled.

«You're right. The truth is I really wanted to bring you here», he explained.

«Why? What's special in here?», the young lusitanian asked looking around. Arslan smiled sadly. He sighed and looked into her eyes.

«This is my home».

Étoile stared at him, confused.

«Your home? But…», she objected looking out of the window, searching for the sparkling palace with her eyes. Arslan realized he had to give her some explanations.

«Well, now my home is in that palace, but it wasn't always like this», he said. Étoile stared at him again and from her gaze the king understood he had completely drawn her attention. He smiled: it was exactly what he wanted.

Étoile knew nothing of the court trick that had allowed Arslan to become Prince of Pars. The truth had troubled the boy for years and only with the help of his friends he had managed to overcome the ordeal of discovering that the ones he had believed to be his parents were essentially two strangers.

Arslan had decided to be sincere with himself and his people, so that his origins weren't a secret. However, not everyone knew the actual version of the events, and Étoile was among these people.

That morning, after the hunting trip, the young king felt the need to tell her everything, to let her know even that part less noble, but equally important of his life. So he caught his breath and started to speak.

He told her that Andragoras III, not having sired a male heir, obtained the son of a member of the aristocracy, a man who was never heard from again, that the baby was brought up by a nursemaid and her husband, in that very house, and only after their unexpected death he moved to the palace.

Étoile was staring at him, shocked. The more Arslan proceeded in his tale, the more Étoile admired him. He was the most unique and fascinating person she had ever met and knowing his story was this complicated did nothing but increase those feelings.

Arslan stopped talking and looked at her. The girl was looking back at him, her mouth slightly open and her breath calm and regular.

«Well», Arslan resumed after a few seconds. «I guess all of this seems weird to you…»

«No…», the young woman answered instead. «The truth is, you never cease to surprise me», Étoile admitted sincerely. Arslan chuckled.

«It's the same effect you have on me…»

«There's nothing surprising about me!», the girl exclaimed laughing.

«You're wrong», Arslan retorted serious. Étoile stopped laughing and looks into his eyes. «You changed a lot in these years…», the king resumed.

«Yes», the commander admitted. «I learnt a lot. Now I can accept myself for who I am».

«But you still want to be called "Étoile"», the sovereign stated after a few moments of silence.

«I guess it's a question of habit», the young lusitanian exclaimed. «It's not a way to leave the past behind me anymore. My real name now reminds me of my family, it's a way to feel their bond», she concluded smiling, turning her gaze over Ecbatana. Arslan was looking at her enchanted. He sighed and naturally he took the hand the girl was resting on the windowsill. Étoile started in surprise but she didn't pull back. She set her eyes on Arslan's face and realized he was looking at her as intensely as he did that morning on the small lake's shore.

«Probably you won't believe me, but I really missed you in these years», the young king admitted getting closer to the girl. Étoile swallowed while a fair blushing colored her cheeks. Arslan slowly raised his hand and brought it on the girl's face moving gently a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear.

Étoile could feel Arslan's warm breath on her skin. Her heart was beating madly. She felt unable to speak or even move a single muscle of her body. The sovereign's blue eyes, illuminated by the moonlight, had hypnotized her.

And she couldn't move even when the young king slowly bent over her kissing her gently.

The contact lasted just a few seconds, but it was enough to make everything surrounding them disappear. Arslan moved aside just a bit: he wanted to look into her eyes, understand if she was feeling the same intense emotion that was driving him insane. Étoile was keeping her gaze down, still unable to even think. So Arslan lifted gently her chin and immediately their eyes met. The redness on the girl's cheeks betrayed her embarrassment, but the light that illuminated her gaze made clear to Arslan not only that she wasn't bothered, but also that in her chest was burning the same flame that set on fire his.

Unable to resist, Arslan kissed her again on her lips. He moved his arms around the girl's waist and held her close to him. Étoile felt the warmth of his chest ignite her already burning heart. This time she didn't stay motionless. She moved her hands on Arslan's face, she felt his soft skin, then her fingers intertwined with the king's silver air. The young sovereign kept holding her sliding his arms over her back, her arms, her face.

Étoile was feeling completely lost in Arslan's embrace. She had never experienced such good, intense, almost violent, emotions.

More and more absorbed in each other, in the heat of the moment, the rear layer of the short tunic that the young woman was wearing lifted up and the young king's hand touched the soft and warm skin of the girl's back.

It was an unexpected and innocent gesture, but for Étoile it was like a jet of clod water. In a mere moment she realized what was happening. The man who was holding her like that, that was touching and kissing her with such passion, was Arslan, king of Pars. And she was Étoile, knight and commander of the lusitanian army, defender of the Faith of Yaldabaoth. And Arslan was a heathen.

Immediately, she wiggled out of the embrace, fighting more against herself than against Arslan.

The king didn't resist and let her move back of some steps, even if with extreme displeasure. The girl was looking straight into his eyes, still panting, and in her gaze Arslan read remorse and guilt.

«Étoile…», the young king said getting closer, trying to calm her down. But the girl moved backwards.

«No!», she said. «No. I don't…», she stuttered heading towards the door.

«Étoile, wait!», Arslan shouted rushing to the girl.

«No!», Étoile repeated using her arm as a shield. They looked at each other for some, endless seconds. «No Arslan… This, this is wrong!», the young lusitanian exclaimed. She exited the room and rushed down the stairs. Arslan followed her calling her name, but the commander was too quick and mounted her horse she threw herself in the tangle of streets.

Arslan could only watch while Étoile disappeared in the night.

* * *

 **A/N: I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! I will make an effort and try to update as regularly as possible!**

 **\- Kiara-g**


	8. Drastic Measures

**A/N: Hi everyone! I finally managed to write the next chapter of this story. I know I kept you waiting for too long and I'm terribly sorry for that. I couldn't find the right way to put my ideas into words so everything I wrote down seemed awful. I know this chapter might have some flaws, so please, if you want, let me know what you think.**

 **Nevertheless, I hope you'll enjoy it. Thank you for your patience.**

 **\- Kiara**

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

 **Drastic Measures**

«… and that's why», Arslan concluded, turning towards his counselors, «That those lands which will result beyond the share each one is allowed to possess will be requestioned and redistributed to the poorest families».

Silence fell upon the room. Elam looked around, seeking in the Council members a sign of approval. Adel was the first one to intervene.

«This is the wiser thing to do right now. I support His Majesty's decision!», the young man exclaimed enthusiastically lifting his right arm showing his approval. For a few seconds no one moved. Arslan lowered his gaze. He knew that his proposal, even more radical than the previous, would have obtained little success. Anyway, one by one, the counselors began raising their arms. Elam smiled satisfied. Cyrus was the last one to approve the sovereign's proposal. He lifted his arm slowly, as if it had suddenly become too heavy. His eyes sparked with anger.

* * *

Lord Cyrus crossed the corridors quickly. Redistribute lands? The king had reached the limit. Never in the history of Pars the noble landowners had had to suffer such restrictions. He had to do something, now. He retrieved the black hood and climbed down the trapdoor. He reached quickly the door of the round underground room where a guard was awaiting. He was about to grab the handle but he realized that another man was lingering in the dark. He moved a step forward and took off the hood covering his head. Cyrus recognized one of the lackeys that he had charged with spreading the dissatisfaction at Court. The man bowed slightly and got closer to the parsian nobleman. He whispered a few words into his hear, enough to make Cyrus' eyes ignite with even more violent rage. The man moved away and Cyrus entered the room, slamming the door behind his back.

His companions fell silent seeing how furious Lord Cyrus was. The noble councilman took his place in the circle and took off the black hood with a resolute gesture.

«Do you know who's going to own your lands?!», he started yelling. No one dared to propose hypothesis. «Do you know?!», the man urged. «Nothing but wretches!», he exclaimed moving some steps around the small stone altar. No one of the members of the group spoke. Cyrus stopped abruptly, turning towards his companions again.

«And do you want to know why last evening our sovereign was late for the Moon Celebration?», he asked lowering his voice. Once again, silence filled the room. The nobleman moved some more steps back and forth.

«I'll tell you!», he shouted tapping a hand on his chest. «While we, his subjects, were waiting to honor one of the most important celebrations of our reign, our king was seen walking away with that savage!»

«The lusitanians' Commander?», a man asked interrupting Cyrus' fierce outburst. He stopped and pointed his burning eyes to his companion. He got threatening closer and the poor man thought he had made a great mistake.

«Exactly», the Lord answered instead.

«Disgraceful!», another one exclaimed, gaining yells of approval from the others. Cyrus let the men express their disappointment, the he lifted his arm demanding silence.

«We have no choice at this point…», he started saying. «The solution has to be drastic», the nobleman sentenced. The other men looked around. Some of them realized what Cyrus was implying, others hoped he wouldn't go that far, pervaded as he was with anger.

The noble councilman moved behind the stone altar and stared into the eyes of every single one in his group. For a moment, it seemed calmness had regained control of his body. He took a deep breath and let out few, fatal words.

«The king must die».

A frozen silence fell upon the room. Nobody dared to say anything. Cyrus was motionless, as if he was made of stone, his gaze was fixed, intense. He inserted his hand into the pocket of the pants he was wearing and took out a golden dagger richly decorated. He lifted the sleeve that was covering his right arm and with the dagger he cut the skin of his wrist, until a drop of scarlet red blood dripped on the circular stone sheet of the altar. His face remained motionless. Cyrus turned to the man at his right and handed him the dagger.

«We are brothers», the nobleman said. His voice was calm, his eyes still. He seemed hypnotized. «Let's seal our deal with blood. No one will be able to get in our way».

The man took the dagger and got closer to the altar, trembling. He glanced at Lord Cyrus, who was clearly waiting for his companion to mimic his gesture. The man took a deep breath, then he used the blade to cut his wrist. The others did the same.

The pact was sealed.

* * *

Étoile threw herself against Malakai twirling her sword in the air. The knight blocked the blow with a quick move and retreated a few steps, then he rushed again against the commander. The girl moved away swiftly and lowered the sword on Malakai's head. The man responded with his own weapon. The blades collided shining. Étoile twirled and with her leg she hit Malakai's knee, forcing him to bend on the ground. The girl pointed her sword at his neck. They looked into each other's eyes, trying to catch their breath.

A few seconds passed, then Étoile withdrew the sword and headed towards the stone counter on which stood a jug full of water. Malakai watched as she walked away. He knew something was upsetting the young commander. The man got up and reached the counter. He grabbed the jug and poured its content into two goblets, handing one to Étoile. She accepted it without saying a word.

«Is everything alright?», he asked suddenly.

Étoile turned towards the man to answer him, but in that exact moment, Arslan, accompanied by Elam and Daryun, appeared in the corridor that articulated behind his back. Their gazes couldn't help but meet, but Étoile lowered immediately her eyes. She put the goblet on the stone counter and walked away in silence. Malakai followed her with his eyes, confused. Then he turned to the sovereign. Arslan kept walking. His face betrayed all this distress.

* * *

He had thought about it a lot of times, he couldn't deny it. Especially in those last few days. He had imagined how it would have been to hold her, caressing her face, feeling her warmth. The images were so vivid he could almost feel her lips touching his.

But he hadn't expected Étoile's reaction to be so determined and opposite. It seemed he had finally managed to reach through her heart, but just when everything seemed so perfect, in that very moment, the magic shattered.

That night the king hadn't been able to sleep. He had gone back to the palace, he had officiated the Moonlight Celebration, his duty as sovereign, then he had retired in his rooms and didn't want to talk to anyone until the next morning. He wanted to understand where he had mistaken, what did he do to distance her so much.

He felt the need to talk to her, to explain his reasons, but Étoile wasn't going to let that happen. The girl had avoided the sovereign the whole day. She wasn't ready to face him.

That night, she couldn't sleep. She found solace in thinking that reject Arslan was the wiser and more rational choice. But she couldn't ignore that her heart was pushing her towards the opposite direction.

That day she had worked hard to prevent their eyes from meeting: she wouldn't have been able to confront him. Arslan, on the other hand, had done nothing but look for her: he couldn't bear to live hanging in the balance.

The king managed to find her in the inner garden, while, sitting on the rim of the central fountain, she watched absorbed the gushes of water. Arslan got closer to her, determined not to miss that occasion.

«Étoile!», he called, running towards her. The girl turned abruptly and moved to flee, but the sovereign grabbed her wrist, blocking her.

«Let me go!», the young woman ordered trying to wiggle out. Arslan's gaze was as still and decisive as his grip.

«Please…», she begged.

«We need to talk», the young man answered. Étoile shook her head.

«No, that's not true. Nothing happened. We have nothing to talk about», Étoile affirmed. Arslan stretched out his other hand and grabbed her arms. He stared intensely into her eyes. For a few moments they stood motionless.

«Étoile…»

«Your Majesty!»

A male voice echoed among the colonnades. Arslan couldn't hold back an annoyed sigh. He let Étoile go, and she lowered her eyes, embarrassed.

«What's the matter?», he asked turning to the young massager who was running towards him.

«Majesty…», the young man repeated panting. «A message from Peshawar, My Lord. Narsus requires your aid!»

Arslan's face stiffened. Perfect timing, he thought. He turned to Étoile, who was still unable to look into his eyes.

«I have to go», he said gritting his teeth. «But we'll talk later…», he reassured her. Then, he followed the young massager.

* * *

The letter that Narsus had sent laid open on the king's desk. Arslan sat on his chair, in front of him were Daryun, Farangis, Adel and Cyrus.

«The matter is serious…», Daryun intervened.

«Without doubt», Cyrus underlined. «Peshawar is our most western fortress, if it falls…»

«What shall we do, Majesty?», Farangis asked.

Arslan stared at the letter for a few more seconds. A mysterious group of men, divided into five squadrons, had attacked the fortress. The men of Peshawar had managed to push them back, but the casualties and the damages had persuaded Narsus to ask for immediate backup. That's what the strategist had written.

«Elam, can you confirm this is Narsus' handwriting?», the king asked handing the young man the parchment. After all the attempts to destabilize his reign, Arslan wouldn't have been surprised to find out the letter was a fake.

«I'm sure. The handwriting is Lord Narsus'», Elam asserted.

«Then there's no doubt», Arslan concluded. «Narsus wouldn't have asked for help if it wasn't necessary. «We're leaving within midnight».

* * *

Daryun was charged to organize the troops. The men gathered in the square in front of the Palace, surrounded by a crowd of curious people. The soldiers were divided into three groups: infantry, cavalry and Royal Guard. The Knight in Black would have accompanied the sovereign, while Elam and Farangis had been entrusted with the supervision of the Palace.

Everything was settled. The men were armed, the torches lighted. Arslan made his entrance into the square. The soldiers greeted him raising their swords and spears. The crowd yelled. The king smiled and waved a hand at them.

«We'll be back as soon as possible!», he exclaimed to the multitude. He reached the front of the troops, where Daryun was waiting for him. He put on the helmet the man handed him and grabbed the reins. He lifted his arm and with a shout he ordered his men to move.

Before departing at full gallop, he turned back, searching with his eyes for the rooms where Étoile was staying.

The young Lusitanian watched as he twirled his sword in the air and disappeared at a gallop beyond the walls of Ecbatana.

* * *

They rode restlessly for almost two hours. The more the time passed, the more the king kept asking himself what kind of threat could be now looming over his reign. The torches spread their long flames into the night, guiding the parsian soldiers. The moon was obscured by large black clouds. It wasn't long before it started raining.

The troops reached quickly the first mountain range separating them from Peshawar. The only way to cross it, was a narrow path on the edge of a long and tight valley. Daryun cursed. The terrain was rocky and slippery and the pouring rain surely didn't make things better. The Knight in Black moved to the end of the troops to make sure no one, distracted by darkness and rain, was left behind. The knights clambered the challenging path with their steeds. Silence was heavy. The men didn't dare to say a word, concentrated as they were to place their feet where the soil would have supported them.

It was sudden and unexpected. A sharp hiss tore the air. A man cried and fell from his horse, rolling down the cliff opening on the edge of the trail. Other hisses interrupted the regular pouring of the rain and just as many arrows fell on the men from the bushes that stood above the crest of the mountains.

«It's an ambush!», a man shouted before collapsing on the ground, with an arrow jabbed in his chest.

Arslan stopped and turned to his troops. He unsheathed his sword and ordered his men to withdraw. They had no chance to fight and win on such fragmented and slippery terrain. Daryun started waving the spear to show the soldiers to retreat.

It was too late. Chaos ruled among the troopers. Some of them unsheathed their swords, other sought shelter under the spurs of rock. Some of the torches that had fallen on the ground had extinguished in the puddles, but some others had set on fire the shrubs that protrude beyond the precipice.

The flood of arrows that had hit the soldiers stopped for a moment. Arslan took advantage of it to reconquer his men's attention.

«Listen to me!», he shouted. «We have to withdraw!»

The king's word echoed on the rocks. There was a moment of silence, then, from above the rocky crest, a yell broke the air. Dozens of men appeared from the shrubs that stood above the path. In a moment they were against the royal troops. Arslan ordered the men to react, but most of them were overwhelmed by the surprise attack.

Daryun threw himself into the multitude, trying not to lose sight of the sovereign, who was a few meters away from him, at the front of the shattered lines. It wasn't easy: those men were experts, and their battling style was the same that was taught to the recruits of the parsian army. This allowed them to anticipate every move Arslan's soldiers attacked them with, making them useless.

The king fought with all his strength. He twirled his sword with extreme precision and every blow was infallible. However, he tried to avoid wounding fatally his aggressors. Their weapons, their movements, their attacks left no room for doubts: they were men of the parsian army. Arslan was sure of it. That's why he couldn't persuade himself to kill them. Someone had convinced them to rebel, to attack their own comrades. But who? All of this did nothing but worsen the situation. The chaos ruling in the young sovereign's mind mirrored the devastation surrounding him. Lifeless bodies on the ground, agonizing horses, blood, torn off shrubs, shattered torches. The king's gaze lingered on the slaughter of his troops a moment too late, and an arrow hissed in the air.

Suddenly, a dull sound echoed between the rocks. From above the mountain, a man had put to the mouth a long curved horn and had blown in it to call back his subordinates. The aggressors quickly obeyed their commander and clambering among the shrubs they reached the top of the rocks, disappearing beyond the vegetation.

Daryun looked around. Just a few dozens of men were still on their horses' saddle. Someone stood up, leaning against their own spears. Someone else was sitting on the ground. The eyes of the Knight in Black tried to locate the king among the confusion, but it was useless.

«Your Majesty!», he called, but only the wounded's laments answered him. «Majesty!», he shouted again dismounting his horse. He paved his way among the corpses and tried to reach what once was the head of their troops. «Your Majesty! Answer me!», but again, nothing more than dull cries and curses. The ones who were still conscious understood from Daryun's glassy and fixed gaze that the situation was serious.

«Did some of you see His Majesty?!», the knight asked. «Your Majesty! Majesty!», he kept calling loudly, without getting any answer.

The men seemed dazed. Nobody said a word, not even a lament anymore. Daryun kept wandering from a trail's end to the other, searching for Arslan in vain. His heart was bursting in his chest.

No one noticed, but it had stopped raining.

* * *

 **A/N: thanks for reading! Review to let me know what you think about it!**

 **\- Kiara**


	9. Darkness

Hello.

Allow me to say just a few words.

I know it's been a long time since the last update. The reason is that I didn't feel like I could continue this story. Even if I planned the entire plot long ago, when it came to write it down, I felt "blocked", and even when I managed to write something, I didn't like it. I couldn't give it the right "flow". So I just stopped, and concentrate on something else. I wrote about other characters and universes, and this helped a lot actually, because I could clear my mind and, above all, practice.

I hope you're still willing to follow this tale.

On a side note, I changed my name from Kiara_g to Shell-K to make it similar to my tumblr account ( myseashellblog)

Thanks

* * *

 **Chapter Nine: Darkness**

The research went on the whole night. The ones who had been wounded were treated, the corpses were gathered to be brought back to the city and buried.

The king had disappeared. No one had seen him. His horse was nowhere to be found. His sword vanished. Daryun couldn't stay still. He kept moving around, looking everywhere, trying to find something, anything that could lead him to the sovereign. But all his eyes met, were wounded soldiers, abandoned swords and spears, armors covered in blood.

Someone cried in the distance. The Knight in Black raised his gaze. A young soldier was running towards him, holding something in his hands. Daryun felt the blood freezing in his veins. The soldier reached him and stopped, heavily breathing, his eyes were red. His hands were trembling, as he slowly lifted them to show Daryun the object he was carrying. The Knight took it in his own hands.

It was a golden helmet. A leonine scalp was carved on the top of it, and a strand of red feathers was still barely attached to it. Daryun dropped on his knees. It was undoubtedly Arslan's helmet. An arrow had pierced through the golden frontal plate, causing a large hole, still covered in fresh blood. Daryun closed his eyes. It couldn't be. There was a mistake. There had to be.

«That's all I found», the young soldier said, his voice was a mere whisper. «A trail of blood led to the precipice».

«He probably fell», a man behind Daryun said. He took a step forward. «That arrow must have wounded His Majesty. Badly, I fear. I wish I didn't have to say this but, the chances to find him alive…».

«Shut up!», Daryun shouted turning his gaze to the man. He had met him before. Arslan had put him in charge of a small group of soldiers that served as messengers.

«Lord Daryun, I understand your sorrow. Believe me, right now my heart is just as broken. But please, consider the circumstances», the messengers' Commander told him. «We need to go back to the Capital. The wounded need rest, and the city needs protection. If hostile people were to know we are currently lacking our sovereign, they could attack Ecbatana». Daryun gritted his teeth. That man was right, still, he couldn't bring himself to believe the king was really gone.

«At least, I need to send a message to Lord Elam. He and the Court need to know», the messengers' Commander urged. Daryun raised his eyes and let his gaze wander in the sky. He stood up and sighed.

«Alright…» he whispered. «Send one of your men to the Palace. We'll move as soon as the troops are ready and we will secure Ecbatana», he agreed, nodding at the man. His yellow eyes sparkled with determination. «Once everything's settled, I'll come back and I swear on my sword I'll find him!»

* * *

Étoile took the bag resting against the wooden pole to which her horse was tied.

«I still think we should wait for the king to come back before we leave…», Thibaut said saddling his horse.

«We talked about it already!», Étoile told him. She turned around and her sharp gaze scanned her men to make sure they were working fast enough.

The stable where their horses had been recovered wasn't really large, and with all their bags and weapons gathered in the middle of the room, it seemed even smaller.

«We didn't even have the chance to thank him properly», Yanis pointed out patting his horse's head.

«We are taking advantage of his hospitality. Once he'll came back he'll have other problems to think about. He won't need a bunch of knights wandering around in his palace», the commander spat out.

Malakai looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She had been inexplicably harsh for the past two days, and even he couldn't get the reason why. Actually, judging from the quickness with which she ordered her men to prepare to leave Ecbatana, a mere hour after the king's departure, it was clear to him her behavior had something to do with the sovereign. Not to mention the fact she had been avoiding him. She didn't even great him properly before his departure. Malakai knew her too well to be fooled. The same couldn't be said for the others.

Kostàs sighed. He lifted his heavy bag and hung it on his horse's side.

«You're making a fuss over nothing», he said turning towards his comrades. «We stayed here more than enough. The commander's right. Time to leave already!». Yanis and Thibaut rolled their eyes. The young Lusitanian man was the only one, aside from Étoile, who looked forward to leaving the Capital and Pars.

For the entire time they spent in the Royal Palace, he couldn't help but feel terribly uncomfortable. Arslan was the kind of man he had always feared. He was mighty and fascinating, and Kostàs had sensed his shadow hoovering above him since they had arrived. No wonder not even Étoile could resist him.

It was sudden. A sharp yell echoed outside the stable. Everyone stopped. A few seconds passed in silence.

«What was that?», Yanis asked perplexed. Étoile left her horse and headed towards the door.

«Commander!», Kostàs called her. She stopped and turned around to look at him.

«I'm going to check what's happened. You stay here», she ordered, leaving the room.

She reached the main square in a couple of minutes. No one was around, but from there she could clearly hear the sound of rambling voices and other undefined noises coming from the upper colonnade hall of the palace. A shiver ran down her spine as a gust of wind blew over the city. The way those voices sounded unsettled her, yet, she followed them and entered the hall.

The messenger Daryun had sent had just reached the palace. As soon as he dismounted his trembling horse and put his feet on the ground, he lost his balance and almost fell on the ground. A lot of people gathered around him: soldiers, knights, maids. From her point of view, Étoile could clearly see Elam running down the great staircase that led inside the palace, followed by Alfreed. The look painted on their faces was beyond words. Étoile felt the blood freezing in her veins. She knew something was wrong. And she read in his friends' eyes it was about Arslan. The young woman gathered all her strength and took a few, heavy steps toward the small crowd, getting closer enough to hear the messenger talk.

Her heart skipped a beat. Never could she have foreseen such turn of events. When, the previous night, her eyes had accompanied the king beyond the city gate, she couldn't even imagine he would soon fall prey to an ambush.

«What did you say?!», Elam sharp voice resounded above the others, abruptly bringing Étoile back to reality. The messenger eyes were filled with tears, his lips were quivering.

«His Majesty is… »

«Talk!», Elam yelled starting to lose his composure.

«The king disappeared! His helmet… his helmet was found only a few hours ago. An arrow still jabbed in the middle of the golden plate. We fear he… perished in the fight», the man told him, trembling in pain and weariness.

Everything went blurry. The devastated look on Elam's face, the pained cry that escaped Alfreed's lips. Everything looked as if it wasn't really happening, as if everyone had been suddenly enveloped in a giant bubble.

Étoile felt dizzy. There was a mistake. There had to be a mistake. That couldn't be the end of it. He couldn't be gone. Her mind started spinning madly, her heart was tearing apart. Her legs became weak and she slowly moved backwards until her back hit one of the tall columns of the hall. A tear rolled down her cheek as she slowly put a hand on her mouth to muffle the pained cry that was raising in her throat. All strength abandoned her, and she let herself slowly collapse on the ground.

* * *

The atmosphere was surreal. Not a single voice, a single noise, a single rustle could be heard in the entire Capital. It was as if she had suddenly lost her energy, her vigor, her colors. The fading orange light of the setting sun filtered through the purplish clouds brought by the wind.

The shops were closed, the houses' doors and windows were barred. The Royal Palace stood mighty above the tangle of streets, wrapped in darkness and silence. Just a few torches illuminated the top of the walls.

Daryun had arrived in the afternoon. He brought with him the survived soldiers, and the king's wretched helmet. He didn't say a word and refused to have his wounds treated. He had closed himself in his room and no one had seen him for the past few hours.

When the last ray of light of the sun disappeared beyond the horizon and the moon started shining in the sky, the doors of the houses opened. Men, women, children, everyone flowed into the streets, in silence, carrying a small torch in their hands. Thousands of feeble lights illuminated Ecbatana, as her people started moving slowly and composedly towards the Great Temple of Mithra, standing next to the Palace.

Farangis looked at the approaching crowd. Dressed in her ceremonial clothes, the priestess waited patiently for the citizens to reach the sacred place and offer their prayers.

She had been the one to suggest the torchlight procession. The news of the disappearance of the king had severely shook people's minds. They had suddenly lost their guide, their reference point and it was extremely important to give them the chance to meet and be together, to strengthen their bonds as a community. It was necessary, whatever trouble they would have to face, that they stood united and solid. With the king missing, the risk of a collapse of the city, and the entire kingdom, was real.

Some of the women shyly approached the great staircase leading to the temple's main hall. They placed bunches of colorful flowers on the first steps, while the men held firmly their torches. Then, the procession moved slowly inside the hall. One by one, the citizens of Ecbatana started kneeling in front of the giant statue of gold and white marble portraying Mithra, murmuring a silent prayer for King Arslan's soul. The moon was already moving towards the west when the last man left the temple.

Étoile opened the small wooden door and the splendor of the prestigious marbles decorating the hall almost blinded her. She looked around to make sure no one was there, then she took a few steps into the temple. She had discovered that back door earlier that afternoon, spying on the temple's attendants. She waited for them to leave, and for the procession to end, then entered the sacred hall. The young Lusitanian reached the huge statue of Mithra. She stared at the high and mighty figure and a shiver ran down her spine. The whiteness of the marble and the golden of its attributes were fascinating and unsettling at the same time. So that was what those false gods and idols looked like, Étoile thought.

Among all that light, Arslan's smiling face took shape in her mind. Her eyes instantly filled with tears. Keeping her gaze on the still and cold face of the god, Étoile slowly fell on her knees.

«I know I have no right to be here», she whispered, her voice trembled. «And I have no right to ask anything of you but…». She stopped for a few seconds. Her eyes lowered at the feet of the statue, where Ecbatana's people had left their gifts to the god to invoke his protection over the king. There were all kinds of objects: toys, cups, vases, small statues, weapons, everything the men, women and children thought it could help to benefit the sovereign. Étoile moved her gaze on the statue's face again.

«Please, save him. Either his earthly self or his soul… don't let him alone in the darkness», she begged as a tear rolled down her cheek. «He doesn't deserve it», she concluded sobbing. Étoile lowered her head, letting her blond locks cover her pained expression. A few minutes later, she raised her eyes on the myriad of gifts resting in front of her. She raised her fingers to touch the wooden cross she always wore around her neck. The young woman let out a breath, then she took off her necklace. The girl looked at it for a few seconds, before kissing the pendant and placing it among the other objects. She stood up, cast a quick look at the god's figure, then turned around to leave, when her blood froze in her veins. Farangis was staring at her, still wearing her ceremonial clothes.

«I'm sorry», Étoile stuttered. «I'll leave immediately», she said walking hastily towards the main exit. The older woman stopped her placing a hand on her shoulder.

«Feel free to come whenever you want», the priestess told her. Étoile felt her eyes becoming wet again. She resumed walking and left the temple without turning back. Farangis waited until the thuds of her steps disappeared in the night, then moved closer to the statue. She looked at the gifts resting on its feet and immediately recognized the wooden Yaldabaoth cross. A bitter smile bent her red lips.

Meanwhile, in the depths of the Royal Palace, happy and cheerful laughter echoed in the corridors. Cyrus and his comrades couldn't have hoped for a better outcome. Their plan had worked perfectly. Neither of them cared for the dozens of destroyed, innocent lives and the hundreds of broken hearts it had left behind.

* * *

The dawn brightened the vast lands of Pars. A light breeze was blowing, carrying the warm perfumes of the summer. The mountains towered motionless above the plain and valleys, casting their impressive shadows on them. Even the narrow passage in which part of the royal army had perished two days earlier hadn't been touched by the sunrays yet. The blood covering the ground and the rocks had dried out, and the small river flowing at the feet of the cliff had carried away part of what had remained of that tragic night.

In the middle of that disastrous scene, a horse, that had miraculously survived the ambush, moved quietly along the river. His fair fur was stained with blood and his once majestic mane was now a tangled mess. The horse shook his head and nuzzled the nearest bush. Suddenly, something below the bush started moving. The horse withdrew immediately and ran away neighing. From the branches of the bush emerged a human hand, then a whole arm, followed by a tangle of silver hair.

Arslan gathered all his forces to raise his head from the ground. He was feeling dizzy and terribly weary, but somehow he managed to move enough to get away from the bush. The king collapsed again on the ground, heavily panting. He waited for a few seconds, barely enough to regain the necessary strength to open his eyes. All he saw was the vegetation, the river and the vertical rocky wall of the precipice. Arslan closed his eyes again. The smallest of smiles graced his lips.

He was alive.

The sovereign waited for a few more minutes, than raised his torso again. He tried to move his legs, but something was blocking them. He turned around and realized there was half of a tree's trunk covering the lower half of his body. The king didn't panic. He put his hands on the ground and pushed to lift his upper body, then he rotated his hips and managed to free his right leg. Arslan stopped for a few seconds to catch his breath, then he managed to move his right leg too. The king lay down on his back. Those movements had required quite an effort. When he was ready to move again, Arslan sat up and began removing his armor. Once he managed to, he took a look at his wounds. His legs were covered in bruises and his left knee had a long but not deep cut. On his stomach was a large, purple bruise, and on his chest opened a large, wound. His right arm was also injured , but the left one wasn't that damaged, thankfully. He wasted no time and started tearing the tunic he was wearing to use its fabric to bandage his wounds. When he was finished, he stood up slowly and in a few steps he reached the river. The king collapsed on its bank and used his hands to drink its fresh water and wash his face. Only then he realized his forehead was injured too. He washed the wound, gritting his teeth in pain, and dried it with a spare shred of fabric.

The sovereign's gaze raised on the cliff. He was starting to remember what had happened, and he was sure he had fallen from that precipice. Maybe he had landed on the bushes, or in the river. That was what had saved him.

A sudden rustle behind his back made him turn around abruptly. Arslan was still feeling a bit dizzy, but he was sure there was a horse getting closer to him.

«Hey», he murmured. His voice was extremely hoarse. The horse stopped. Arslan got up and started walking towards the animal on his trembling legs. Luckily, it didn't seem afraid of him. The king finally reached the horse and gently patted his head. The animal was so calm the king was sure it was part of the army. It had probably lost its knight in the ambush.

Arslan couldn't afford to waste that opportunity. He knew he had to go back to the Ecbatana. He was sure his troops were already there. The king gathered all his strength and mounted the horse. He didn't have a saddle nor bridles, but his priority was to reach the Capital as soon as possible. Arslan leaned over the horse's neck.

«We have to be quick, alright? Let's go home», the king whispered, before departing at full gallop.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading and following this story so far!**


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